alrighty, here we go with chapter 7. thanks for the nice reviews & to all who read! thanks for sticking with it, even through my longer-than-stated update periods. but onto chapter 7!
disclaimer: nothing is mine.
Chapter 7: When fear and dream must collide
Bright. Too bright. Evelyn clamped her eyes shut and rolled over. But then she let them open again…gradually adjusting to the light. She didn't remember having so many windows in her bedroom…or having a white pillow case. Suddenly she bolted up, a heavy woozily feeling rushing to her head.
This room wasn't hers…and the clothes she had on most certainly were not hers. She never slept in pajama pants…always shorts. Drowsiness and collapse threatened to consume her again but Evelyn could have cared less. She had to know where she was. Someplace high end, judging by the furniture in the room…and the white silk kimono draped across the foot of the bed.
She stared at it curiously, fighting to remember anything about the previous eve and how she came to be here. Determined to get the answers, for she could find none, she slipped the robe over the t-shirt and pajama pants she was wearing and shakily walked to the door.
Never before had she felt so unsteady on her feet. It was borderline frightening to her, only because she didn't know if she could keep herself from collapsing or not. She wandered down a large, wide staircase, and found herself on a landing leading into one large staircase, leading to the main floor. Or what she guessed was the main floor.
"Evelyn…," she turned at the sudden voice and saw none other than Bruce Wayne, "it's good to see you up."
"I guess so," she said tentatively as she continued down the stairs, watching him lazily walk over "if you don't mind my asking," she said, furrowing her brows in honest confusion, "how did I come to be here last night? I'm now assuming I'm at your house."
"Yes, you are….and we were hoping you could tell us," Bruce openly answered, "Alfred and I found you unconscious on the side of the road last night, half laying out in the woods." A note of concern hinged on his voice as she looked at him dubiously.
"You what?" She asked in disbelief, not willing to believe a single word.
"You don't honestly remember anything?" He asked, a note of investigation on his voice more than surprise.
"No…not a thing…," she raised her eyes to his, looking at him skeptically, "what did you do to me?" A note of surety rang on her words. He tilted his head to the side and looked at her in surprise.
"What did I do?" He asked in confusion. "Saved your life most likely—it's freezing out."
"No," she said, a note of a frustration on her voice, "to my memory. I can't remember anything about last night, or how I got here…or what I am doing here." Bruce looked at her in almost shock, before an idea crept to his mind.
"Do you know what day this is? And what day yesterday was."
"Of course," she spat, "it's…," a blank look crossed her face, "the month is February, and the day…is…." She shook her head, lost and angry with herself for forgetting something so simple.
"Maybe you were given a drug of some kind," he said as the thought came him, "just enough to fuzz your memory. In the form of a pill, mabye—do you remember…no, you wouldn't," he paused, "did you check your arms for any possible unknown marks?" He asked curiously.
"No—that doesn't make any sense. I don't remember receiving any injection or anything." She said, resisting the urge to tell him it was a stupid theory.
"And you wouldn't if the vaccination cleared your short term memory." He said, a spark of annoyance on his voice at this woman's belittling insistence. She raised her eyes to his, a determined, annoyed look of her own swirling about their dark green depths.
"Very well then," she shrugged out of the kimono she was wearing and draped it across her shoulder, before straightening out her arms and inspecting them, before flipping them over. "See? No evidence of any recent injections. Your theory fails."
"Except for right here." He wrapped a hand around her left wrist and twisted her arm gently over to where she saw the tiny, inflamed red whelp just above her elbow joint. Her mouth fell open in shock, worry and even some fear creasing her brow.
"You…you did this to me!" She suddenly accused, everything making sense in her mind. "How else could you have known where to look! You sick freak!" She watched a controlled anger fill his eyes. "Where's a phone? I want to call the police and get out of here."
"Good luck finding one," he said, "they are around, but most of them hidden in order to achieve a more pleasing, aesthetic look, so I was told." He forced himself to keep his voice mellifluous. Surely whatever she was given—and she was given something—was still clouding her mind. "In the meantime, I suggest you go back and rest."
"Why should I?" She stared coldly down at him.
"Because you'll not be leaving for some time." He simply said, a note of caring hidden on his voice.
"Why not?" She questioned, fighting to keep some fear and anger from coloring her voice.
"You're still suffering the effects of whatever you were given—it would not be right to leave you on your own just yet." He smiled in what he hoped was a caring manner before starting back down the steps.
Involuntarily she shivered, fighting back a yawn. He thought he was so haughty for keeping her here, when she knew in her mind it was him who had drugged her.
Begrudgingly, she started back up the stairs, shrugging her arms back into the warm kimono. Another long yawn escaped her and she felt her legs growing unsteady. Maybe Bruce was right…but he couldn't be.
She continued up the stairs, reaching out for the railing to steady her sluggishly moving feet. Her knees involuntarily buckled and she gripped the railing tight, somewhat breaking her fall before her head grew too heavy to hold up under the weight of her eyelids.
Bruce heard the sound of her first fall, only then to watch as the rest of her sunk down onto the stairs. He flew up the stairs to her side, first making sure she had not injured herself, smiling in relief as he could tell she had lowered herself to the floor.
Gently he gathered her up in his arms and carried her back to the same room. He knew the effects had not fully worn off yet—she had not been asleep nearly long enough. Yet she thought herself awake enough and strong enough to go ahead and crawl out of bed. As he laid her gently against the soft white sheet, he silently wondered what it was that made her so standoffish.
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Her head was screaming by the time she was alert enough to remember anything. She had found herself back in bed again…in a familiar room that was still a million times too bright. But yet she had sworn she'd left this bed once before….
"What did you do to me?...you sick freak!"
Her words echoed in her head as she wandered down the bright corridor, hoping…no, desperately wanting to find Bruce and apologize. Everything had been so hazy, and she'd felt so befuddled and afraid. Not that she'd ever admit it…but she had.
She pulled the kimono tighter around her as she slowed to a stop, her eyes fixed to the wall. A portrait of the happiest, most close-knit family hung right before her eyes. No doubt the Wayne family…Bruce and his parents. A sad smile crept to her face as some jealousy, mixed with sympathy grew in her heart.
"Good morning Miss Werren." Alfred's pleasant voice drifted down the corridor to her tired ears.
"Good morning." She said politely, turning from the portrait for but a second.
"They made quite a handsome family." Alfred commented almost wistfully, coming to stand beside her.
"Yes it seems that way," she said softly, a note of regret on her voice, "I read about what happened, and honestly, I couldn't believe it. The night we met—before I knew what happened…I said some things I shouldn't have…," she trailed off, almost embarrassed by her whole confession, "where is he?" She asked longingly.
"Last I saw him, he was in the library. He'll be most anxious and pleased to see you up and about. I'll show you Miss." He turned and started down the hallway towards the stairwell with Evelyn close on his heels.
"So does he have nice robes available for all the women that come through here?" She heard herself ask curiously, looking at the white, silken kimono she now wore.
"No—and truth be told, you're the first woman he's ever leant that too, since you're the first woman to ever stay the night in a separate room," she felt herself involuntarily blush, "no, the robe you're wearing belonged to his mother. He thought you might be more comfortable wearing it when you awoke." Alfred turned at the base of the stairs and motioned to the double doors to her left. She nodded quickly and smiled before pulling down the thin handle and disappearing inside.
"Oh Alfred, good you're back—I need—" Bruce stopped short, once his eyes fell on Evelyn's willowy figure, as she offered an awkward smile.
"Sorry if I'm disturbing you. I—we can talk later—"
"No, no," he quickly said, moving around the desk, "don't go. I would welcome your company." She looked up at him questioningly.
"What? Even after everything I've said to you? Accused you of being something you're not—"
"What? A 'sick freak'?" He calmly asked, noticing her fight back an embarrassed blush. Oh how she wanted nothing more than to pace the floor and never stop.
"No," she shortly answered, "of being a spoiled playboy whose life has known no misgivings. When really, you were dealt one of fate's worst hands those many years ago."
"And she's still beating me," he added quietly, "but I held nothing against you—"
"You should have," she simply answered, raw truth in her voice, "I should not have assumed and jumped to such conclusions. I'm sorry if those empty words caused you additional pain. And, my condolences on the untimely death of your parents, even though it is twenty some-odd years overdue."
"Thank you." He said softly, trying not to drown under the weight of his own memories.
"And as for calling you a 'sick freak,'" she downheartedly continued, "I am sorry. I don't know what…something just made everything so hazy. I couldn't be sure what I was thinking versus what I was saying." He smiled understandingly, noticing how tired and worn she looked.
"Please sit." He motioned to a chair as she kept her eyes from his, sitting quietly down. She looked so rattled, so shaken.
"Again, I want to apologize for earlier," she said from where she sat with her fingers now pinching the bridge of her nose, "my life has held so much uncertainty that I tend to cling rather hard to surety. And when that surety is lost—especially on something such as the events of one evening or the simple day of week—it really gets to me." She admitted, an almost hurt note to her voice.
"I understand," he said truthfully, "in all honesty, it would rattle anybody I would think. To have your mind tampered with; it's not something anyone could easily handle."
"'Mind tampered with…'," she said, shaking her head, as though repeating a fact. Bruce stood attentively, waiting, hoping that she would say more. But only silence filled the room. The majority of her face was hidden in her hand and her sudden silence worried him for reasons he couldn't explain. He moved closer to her, sitting on the ottoman, concern filling his warm eyes.
"Evelyn," he said, trying to meet her eyes through her hands, "Ev…" He said softly, his hand involuntarily rising to hold hers and pull it loosely from her face. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, filling him with as much confusion as concern. She met his eyes for just a second, hating how vulnerable it made her feel, before quickly turning from him, covering her face with her one hand.
"Evelyn, what—"
"What do you care?" She quickly, defensively spat.
"Please—if I didn't care, I'd have left you on the side of the road." He said comfortingly. She shook her head, and he knew full well that she didn't have to tell him anything. And that she wouldn't. "You don't have to tell me anything Ev." He softly said, memories and feelings of his own filling his heart, as he reached a hand to her shoulder, rubbing it gently with his thumb. She looked over at him, an ever so slight smile on her thin face.
"What…what did you call me?" A small light entered her eyes.
"Ev…." He admitted almost sheepishly, as though it was not right for him to call her something so informal.
"I've never been called that before."
"I won't say it again." He quickly backpedaled.
"I don't mind…I actually like it." She admitted, wiping the tears from her eyes and sniffing back fresh ones. A silence fell between them, and she lowered her head, resting her elbow against the arm of the chair, and her mouth against her knuckles.
She looked up slowly, fresh tears threatening to fall, and reached out for him, desperate for human contact. It seemed as though that was what he had been waiting for himself. Without hesitating, he wrapped his arms tightly, comfortingly around her, holding her close as she clung to him. Her tears had returned, but he didn't mind and neither did she—the warmth, simplicity and reassurance of a human touch was overwhelming to them both.
"I like listening to your heart beat," she suddenly, softly said, her voice somewhat muffled by the cloth of his shirt. He smiled ever so faintly, masking his surprise, and rested his head atop hers. He had forgotten what it felt like to be treated like an ordinary person, like someone who was deserving of love, happiness, and normalcy. Even though Ev had some secrets about her that she wasn't readily sharing, for just this moment, there was nothing he wished was different.
"Wish I could hear yours." He heard himself softly say against her curls.
"Maybe someday you will." Her words even surprised her. Did she really mean that?
well thats all for now. i'll go ahead and say it'll be at least a full week, maybe closer to two,until i can update again (i'm spending break in a place with no computers & things promise to be crazy once i get back). post a review, comments, suggestions, criticisms, if you want & thanks for stopping by!