Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters in this story, except for
the narrator and others you don't recognize. Although I wish I did. ;)
A/N: Please R&R!! I have the rest of the story done, but I won't post unless you (the readers) tell me too! I know this doesn't follow any timelines. It's my own little corner of DCU. You no like, too bad. You go bye-bye. Have nice day!
Flame Guardian: thanx for the feedback. Answered your questions, too; one more than the other. ;) Don't worry; it's coming.
* * *
In four years, a lot can happen. Dad got promoted to sergeant, which resulted in a raise in pay for him and a somewhat new apartment for the two of us. My Uncle Bruce (he's really my grandfather, but I can't make myself call him "Grampa", so he's Uncle) semi-retired from his CEO position of his company, which he's headed for a long time, long before my dad was even born. I started high school, which was an adventure (let's just say that much), and tried to find my rightful place in the high school population. That was also the year that Dad and I finished our "conversation", the one we had started four years before, but had never finished.
Dad said that he had to go to work early and work late again, and I was kind of upset, because he had promised that he would take the night off. He hadn't had a night off in weeks, and it was starting to show, particularly on his face.
"Yeah, but why do you have to go in?" I whined, knowing that it wasn't going to help things.
"Because I'm the one who's on call during the night shift," he said, adjusting his belt. He was getting skinnier, I noticed. No matter how much he ate, he kept losing weight.
"Well, then have them call someone else in. You need a night off, Pop," I said. "They're running you ragged. I can see it in your face." He frowned at me.
"Robyn, I'm in no mood for an argument right now, okay?" he said flatly.
"I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, Richard," I said. I saw the brief surprise on his face when I used his first name. "I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to burn out. That's all." He gave me a weak smile and came over and kissed my forehead.
"Thanks, Mom," he said. "Listen, I'll leave a message for the chief to ask for some time off next week, okay?" He put on his coat. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. I love you."
"Love you too, Dad," I said. He turned and left. I could hear him lock the door behind him, then his fading footfalls in the hallway. I exhaled sharply through my nose. "That's the same thing you said last week," I said to no one in particular. I was used to his broken promises, but his lies still hit a nerve within me. I really hated him lying to me. It was as if he didn't trust me or something. I picked at my dinner, but gave up on it; I had lost my appetite.
I walked to my room, catching a glance at Mom's photograph on the table. I stopped and stared at the photo. She stared back at me with her beautiful green eyes. It seems all I got from her was the X chromosome. I don't look like her at all. Well....okay, maybe during the summer my hair goes to her strawberry blonde, but most of the time, my hair's as black as Dad's. That's it. I've been told that, as I get older, I'm my dad's clone, with the exception of being female. I think I act like her sometimes, but I'm definitely my father's daughter.
Patricia Joan Murray Grayson.
Dad met her the first few weeks after he moved here to Bludhaven, and fell in love with her. She was manager of a small restaurant near the bar he first worked at, and he stopped in there one night to get something to eat. They met, and I guess it was love at first sight. She was as tough as my dad and could argue him down, which is a feat in and of itself. She had worked hard all of her life, and it showed, apparently.
From what I've been told by an inside source (a.k.a. my Uncle Tim), my grandfather wasn't too pleased with Dad when he brought her back to Gotham to meet everyone. To this day, I still don't understand why. I guess he wasn't ready to completely let go of him yet or something. I know both he and my dad will never say; not to my face anyway. Uncle Tim loved her. He told me that he had never seen my dad so happy before. My aunt Barbara wasn't too crazy about her (she and my dad had a bitter breakup and I think she was still into him at the time), but she tried to be happy for them.
Mom and Dad were married within a year of meeting, and nine months later, I was brought into the world.
It was both a blessing and a curse. Within hours of having me, she had a seizure. A blood clot, caused by me coming out of her, had found its way into her bloodstream and went to her brain. There, it found a weakened vessel from when she had hit her head when she was five years old, and pushed its way through. I was born on June 8th at 10:56 pm; on June 9th at 2:04 am, she had a brain aneurysm and died.
And you know what the worst thing is? My mom's parents blame me for her death. They have in their heads that I was the reason they had their only child taken away from them; my grandmother especially. My grandfather will send me a birthday card every now and then, but she won't even acknowledge me at all. I mean, I know that it's not my fault, but it still hurts sometimes.
I stood there for a few minutes, staring at her photo. For a brief, selfish moment, I wished for her to be here with me and Dad. I wanted to have a normal family; a daddy AND a mommy. Then I thought about all of the things that Dad and I do together, and brushed the thought aside.
"What isn't he telling me, Ma?" I asked aloud, as if I expected the photo to talk back and tell me. "What's he hiding?" All she did was stare back at me.
I sighed and retreated to my room (which I found I was doing more of) and sat at my computer and worked on building my own internet server. Aunt Barbara got me hooked on computers, so now I'm working on achieving her "status" in the computer world. Yes, I will admit it: I have gained access into certain computer mainframes that I'm not allowed or supposed to be in, but that'll be our little secret.
Anyway, I quit the computer around 11:30 pm, mostly because I had school the next day, and went to bed. Around 1:30 am I was jolted awake for some unknown reason. About thirty seconds later, I heard a noise in the kitchen area of our apartment. Thinking it was the building settling, I ignored it and tried to go back to sleep. I heard it again, followed by a thump. Okay, someone's breaking in, I thought. Adrenaline running, I quietly got out of bed and grabbed the Louisville Slugger bat I kept by my nightstand. Slowly, I opened my door and looked out. Pitch black. I didn't see the intruder, but I could hear him. He was breathing heavy and dragging his feet a little. I heard him getting closer, so I positioned myself in the doorway to defend myself if he tried to attack me.
Closer and closer he came. His breathing was labored and his feet were dragging even more. I saw a shape go by me, heading for my dad's room. I stepped out of my room into the hallway and brought the bat high over my head, ready to bring it down hard on his head.
A/N: Please R&R!! I have the rest of the story done, but I won't post unless you (the readers) tell me too! I know this doesn't follow any timelines. It's my own little corner of DCU. You no like, too bad. You go bye-bye. Have nice day!
Flame Guardian: thanx for the feedback. Answered your questions, too; one more than the other. ;) Don't worry; it's coming.
* * *
In four years, a lot can happen. Dad got promoted to sergeant, which resulted in a raise in pay for him and a somewhat new apartment for the two of us. My Uncle Bruce (he's really my grandfather, but I can't make myself call him "Grampa", so he's Uncle) semi-retired from his CEO position of his company, which he's headed for a long time, long before my dad was even born. I started high school, which was an adventure (let's just say that much), and tried to find my rightful place in the high school population. That was also the year that Dad and I finished our "conversation", the one we had started four years before, but had never finished.
Dad said that he had to go to work early and work late again, and I was kind of upset, because he had promised that he would take the night off. He hadn't had a night off in weeks, and it was starting to show, particularly on his face.
"Yeah, but why do you have to go in?" I whined, knowing that it wasn't going to help things.
"Because I'm the one who's on call during the night shift," he said, adjusting his belt. He was getting skinnier, I noticed. No matter how much he ate, he kept losing weight.
"Well, then have them call someone else in. You need a night off, Pop," I said. "They're running you ragged. I can see it in your face." He frowned at me.
"Robyn, I'm in no mood for an argument right now, okay?" he said flatly.
"I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, Richard," I said. I saw the brief surprise on his face when I used his first name. "I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to burn out. That's all." He gave me a weak smile and came over and kissed my forehead.
"Thanks, Mom," he said. "Listen, I'll leave a message for the chief to ask for some time off next week, okay?" He put on his coat. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. I love you."
"Love you too, Dad," I said. He turned and left. I could hear him lock the door behind him, then his fading footfalls in the hallway. I exhaled sharply through my nose. "That's the same thing you said last week," I said to no one in particular. I was used to his broken promises, but his lies still hit a nerve within me. I really hated him lying to me. It was as if he didn't trust me or something. I picked at my dinner, but gave up on it; I had lost my appetite.
I walked to my room, catching a glance at Mom's photograph on the table. I stopped and stared at the photo. She stared back at me with her beautiful green eyes. It seems all I got from her was the X chromosome. I don't look like her at all. Well....okay, maybe during the summer my hair goes to her strawberry blonde, but most of the time, my hair's as black as Dad's. That's it. I've been told that, as I get older, I'm my dad's clone, with the exception of being female. I think I act like her sometimes, but I'm definitely my father's daughter.
Patricia Joan Murray Grayson.
Dad met her the first few weeks after he moved here to Bludhaven, and fell in love with her. She was manager of a small restaurant near the bar he first worked at, and he stopped in there one night to get something to eat. They met, and I guess it was love at first sight. She was as tough as my dad and could argue him down, which is a feat in and of itself. She had worked hard all of her life, and it showed, apparently.
From what I've been told by an inside source (a.k.a. my Uncle Tim), my grandfather wasn't too pleased with Dad when he brought her back to Gotham to meet everyone. To this day, I still don't understand why. I guess he wasn't ready to completely let go of him yet or something. I know both he and my dad will never say; not to my face anyway. Uncle Tim loved her. He told me that he had never seen my dad so happy before. My aunt Barbara wasn't too crazy about her (she and my dad had a bitter breakup and I think she was still into him at the time), but she tried to be happy for them.
Mom and Dad were married within a year of meeting, and nine months later, I was brought into the world.
It was both a blessing and a curse. Within hours of having me, she had a seizure. A blood clot, caused by me coming out of her, had found its way into her bloodstream and went to her brain. There, it found a weakened vessel from when she had hit her head when she was five years old, and pushed its way through. I was born on June 8th at 10:56 pm; on June 9th at 2:04 am, she had a brain aneurysm and died.
And you know what the worst thing is? My mom's parents blame me for her death. They have in their heads that I was the reason they had their only child taken away from them; my grandmother especially. My grandfather will send me a birthday card every now and then, but she won't even acknowledge me at all. I mean, I know that it's not my fault, but it still hurts sometimes.
I stood there for a few minutes, staring at her photo. For a brief, selfish moment, I wished for her to be here with me and Dad. I wanted to have a normal family; a daddy AND a mommy. Then I thought about all of the things that Dad and I do together, and brushed the thought aside.
"What isn't he telling me, Ma?" I asked aloud, as if I expected the photo to talk back and tell me. "What's he hiding?" All she did was stare back at me.
I sighed and retreated to my room (which I found I was doing more of) and sat at my computer and worked on building my own internet server. Aunt Barbara got me hooked on computers, so now I'm working on achieving her "status" in the computer world. Yes, I will admit it: I have gained access into certain computer mainframes that I'm not allowed or supposed to be in, but that'll be our little secret.
Anyway, I quit the computer around 11:30 pm, mostly because I had school the next day, and went to bed. Around 1:30 am I was jolted awake for some unknown reason. About thirty seconds later, I heard a noise in the kitchen area of our apartment. Thinking it was the building settling, I ignored it and tried to go back to sleep. I heard it again, followed by a thump. Okay, someone's breaking in, I thought. Adrenaline running, I quietly got out of bed and grabbed the Louisville Slugger bat I kept by my nightstand. Slowly, I opened my door and looked out. Pitch black. I didn't see the intruder, but I could hear him. He was breathing heavy and dragging his feet a little. I heard him getting closer, so I positioned myself in the doorway to defend myself if he tried to attack me.
Closer and closer he came. His breathing was labored and his feet were dragging even more. I saw a shape go by me, heading for my dad's room. I stepped out of my room into the hallway and brought the bat high over my head, ready to bring it down hard on his head.
