A bit of a tear jerker, if you know what it's like to have a toxic and abusive family member. It's really confusing, and hurtful, and stressful. That's a pretty big part of Kristina's story, in case you haven't noticed, and it will only get bigger. (Hint, hint)

This chapter takes place about six months after the attempted destruction of Gotham.

Chapter Song: DNA by Lia Marie Johnson. I highly recommend you listen to it as you read the chapter.

August 15, 2005

I'm going to talk to Jonathan today.

I had to beg Bruce, he told me no the first time, and he just seems really worried when I bring it up. Tomorrow, Bruce announces my adoption. Rachel and I weren't sure it was such a good idea, but Bruce is talking about putting me back into regular school, (or, private school) and he said that means he'll need to make sure everyone knows who I am.

But when he told me that, all I could think about was telling Jonathan. I know he's a bad guy, and I know he hurt a lot of people, including me. He still makes me angry, and at times, I really do hate him. But, and I don't know what it is, I feel like I have to be the one to tell him about my adoption. Maybe it's because he's my last living family member. Or at least, the last one I know about.

I told him all the bad things that happened there. I told him about when Ms. Oscar would slap me, about how she locked me in my room without food a lot of times for punishment, about how she wouldn't let me go outside or talk to the other kids for days, sometimes weeks. If he didn't care about me then, why should I have to care about him now? It doesn't seem fair.

But, at the same time, I feel like it's my responsibility to tell him. He's going to be furious when he hears, no matter who tells him, and I just want it to come from me.

I'm not sure why I feel that way, but when I figure it out, I'll let you know.

-Kristina

Arkham wasn't just intimidating, it was terrifying.

Kris was standing there, looking up at the large building. It looked more like something out of those old horror movies she and John would sneak into the group home to watch, like the castle/hideout the bad guy always stayed in. It was kind of ironic that this was the building housing one of the bad guys of her story.

Behind her, Bruce and Rachel stood shoulder to shoulder. The young lawyer had insisted on coming, something about ensuring the asylum followed all proper procedures. Kris wasn't going to say it out loud, but she liked it when Bruce's friend came with them, she fit in with Bruce and the twelve-year-old seamlessly.

Alfred had stayed in the car, ready to drive them away as soon as they were done. Despite it being near the end of summer, a chilly breeze seemed to brush against her every step of the way towards the front entrance, and the sky looked much more gray and bleak here than it did over in the loft.

Kris hadn't forgotten the Narrows. She'd just forgotten how hard and desperate and angry her life had been before. It seemed like forever ago she'd first met Bruce in that alley, running from James, and now, she was saying good-bye to the person she had thought was her only friend.

As they approached the doors, they saw a man standing there, clad in a gray suit that seemed to match the atmosphere around him. His white hair was balding at the top, and his chubby, wrinkled face was shaved clean. A very small pair of glasses sat on the end of his nose, making his eyes looking almost comically wide.

He looked like a really old, weird baby.

"Mr. Wayne," He greeted formally in a deep voice, "pleasure to meet you. And Miss Dawes, we spoke on the phone."

Both adults greeted the man back, giving him firm handshakes, before he looked down at Kris. "And this must be young Kristina, it's wonderful to meet you, sweetheart. I'm Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, the head of this mental institution."

The pet name made her grind her teeth, but she forced her lips to turn up in a semi-polite smile. "Nice to meet you, too, sir."

With that, the old man turned around, leading them deeper into the drab, gray building. The lack of color was enough to give Kris a headache; everything was just a different shade of gray. The only thing that wasn't were the eye-straining white walls, shockingly bare, with the occasional certificate or strange, abstract painting mounted on it.

As they went in, they had to fill out a paper, something about not bringing weapons. She smirked at Bruce a little when he read that aloud, but a stern look from Rachel wiped it off her face quickly. Afterwards, he led them down several long, twisting hallways, rambling on about how the institution had been in his family for years. Kris kept her mouth shut, because a part of her wanted to say that if she ever inherited such a horrible place, she'd bulldoze it.

Finally, they stopped outside a door, and the twelve-year-old tuned back in as the director turned back to them, face solemn. "This is one of our visiting rooms; Crane is inside."

Her stomach flipped, and for a second, she felt like she was going to throw up. A hand on her shoulder caused her to look behind her to see Bruce, crouching at her level. "You don't have to do this, you know." He told her softly, but firmly. "You say the word, we turn right back around and go back into the city. We can even go get some burgers and strawberry shakes, if you want."

For just one, tiny millisecond, she almost agreed. She wanted to run back out to the car, drive away from this building forever, and go enjoy getting a hot burger and a non-gourmet milkshake while they watched a movie before Bruce had to leave. She loved doing normal stuff like that, and it sounded great at a time like this.

But she didn't. Instead, the twelve-year-old turned back around, squaring her small shoulders again. "No, it's ok. I want to do this."

The men in short-sleeved, white coats had to search her for weapons, (something Bruce seemed to get pretty heated about, and she didn't doubt he would be bringing up once she was out of earshot) and then handed her a black chord necklace with gray circle on the end that had a red button.

"Wear this under your shirt, ok, Kris?" Rachel instructed her sternly, placing it under the girl's blue shirt and pulling her hair over the chord. "We'll be just on the other side of the mirror in there, and we can see and hear everything. But this is just in case you want to leave, just act like you're adjusting your shirt, ok?"

"Ok." She nodded, clenching her fists. She didn't want Rachel to see her scared. But the older brunette gave her a forced smile, eyes swimming with anxiety, before she stood up next to Bruce. Turning away from them, she faced Dr. Arkham.

"I'm ready."

The man started telling her about how Crane was handcuffed to the table, but she could barely hear him. All she could do was stare at the gray, steel door in front of her, practically able to smell Jonathan on the other side. Finally, the old man stopped talking, and swung the door open.

The room was white, scary white. The walls made her head hurt, just like the other ones in the asylum, and her black converse squeaked against the gray and white tiles as she walked into the room. The room was, indeed, surrounded by mirrors, but she knew the ones to her right was the room that the adults were sitting in. Bruce had originally demanded to go in with her, but with some convincing, had agreed she could go in alone, as long as he could watch the entire time.

There was a single, plastic table sitting in the center of the room. It was the only thing that wasn't white or gray; it was black, and obviously old, judging from the large chips of paint that had come off to reveal a light brown base underneath it. Two chairs were on either side of it, one on her side, and on the other, sat Jonathan.

He looked awful. Large, dark circles hung under his eyes, and the originally blue iris's looked colder, almost like ice, and were horribly bloodshot. He had always been pale, but now his skin looked almost translucent, his face skeletal. His brown hair, the same shade as hers, was still growing out, and looked like a bird's nest on top of his head.

He looked just like an old scarecrow.

At the sound of the door shutting, she saw him twitch, even though his gaze remained on the table. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, her steps almost too loud in the deafening silence of the room. Finally, she was able to get into the chair without too much awkward maneuvering, seeing as she hadn't hit her growth spurt yet.

"You haven't grown too much, yet."

His voice startled her, causing her to jump. She sat still, watching as his eyes turned towards her own.

"That's ok, though. You still have time, your mother and I were 4'11" until we hit high school."

"You lied to me."

The words were biting, harsh, and it felt so strange and wrong to be directing her anger at him, the one person who had treated her with anything even close to the kindness children deserved. Jonathan didn't flinch, though, simply raising his eyebrows.

"I didn't, actually. I just didn't tell you the truth."

"Yeah, so you could lie to me."

"No, so I could protect you." Jonathan crooned, sitting forward. "Kristina, you are my only family. I would never let anyone hurt you. When I heard that Ra's Al Ghul tried to take you away from me, I-" he stopped, cutting himself off as he started to shake in fury. After several seconds, he seemed to calm down as Kris watched him, her stomach tumbling fear as he composed himself. "I only want what's best for you, Kris. That's what my sister, your mother, would have wanted."

"How would I know?" She shot back, now feeling angry. "I never met her!"

"I was going to change the world with her, Kristina." He said softly, "But then, she died. When I met you, I knew you were the one I was going to change the world with. You're so intelligent, Kris. You have the intellect many adults can't match, you are gifted." As he spoke, Jonathan's eyes seemed to go bright, and a strange smile came over his face. Kris inadvertently pressed back against the chair she was sitting in as he continued on. "Just like me, just like your mother! Elizabeth loved her craft, she wanted to be the change in the world, and I knew you would be that way too, as soon as I met you in the courthouse that day."

"But you left me there." She spat, her fury returning, "And you did it on purpose, too! I told you all the bad things the Oscar's did, and you left me there anyway!"

"I couldn't take care of you-"

"No, you didn't want to take care of me." The bite in her tone was almost shocking, her voice too full of vitriol for such a small girl. "You always treated me like you were different from the other adults, you kept saying they didn't want me like you did because I was special." Her eyes stung, and as hard as she tried to keep her voice strong, it broke during her next sentence. "But you didn't want me, just like everyone else. If I wasn't your niece, you wouldn't have looked at me twice."

"You and I are different, Kristina." His tone changed slightly, and he leaned forward a bit more. "You think that you'll be able to live a normal life? You honestly think that the other children will accept you, that anyone will accept you? They won't, Kris, and do you know why? You're just like me. You're different, and you're special. No one else will love you for that, except for me."

"You can't love me!" Her voice rose in pitch as she sat straight up, holding onto the sides of her chair with a grip so tight, her entire hand was losing color. "You don't even know me!"

"I know you are brilliant, and smart-"

"But I'm so much more than that!" She stood now, voice shaking as it rose to a shout, the rage in her veins so potent, it felt like fire was seeping up through her skin. "I'm not just smart like you; I like sports, and I like playing with other kids, even if some of them don't like me back! I like helping people, and I like writing! You need me, but I don't need you!"

As soon as the words left her lips, Jonathan was speechless. He was staring at her, looking furious, and if she didn't know him better, she'd say he almost looked hurt. Tears were running down her face now, and she turned, walking straight for the door, knowing that she had about five seconds before Rachel and Bruce shut the whole visit down. But as she neared the large, steel escape, she remembered why she was there. Turning around, she glared at her uncle.

"Bruce Wayne is adopting me; the papers will be signed tomorrow. He cares about me for who I am, every part of me, even the parts that are like you." And with that, she grabbed the handle, heaving the door open with all her preteen strength, and storming out into the hallway.

Within seconds, the adults were around her again. Bruce was furious, and it almost looked like steam was about start, but before she could ask him why, he had grabbed her hand. "We're leaving, Kris, right now."

She didn't have the strength to question why; it was like the room had sucked up all her strength when she'd stepped through the doorway. The fury had evaporated, and in its place, was a shocking amount of numbness. All of the hurt, confusion, anger, and fear of the previous six months was gone, and she wasn't sure if she missed it, or preferred the black hole now sitting in her chest.

She recognized Rachel, pulling her out of the asylum, as Bruce yelled at Dr. Arkham in the background. She couldn't tell what he was saying, it all sounded so far away. Blood was rushing in her ears, and she could feel exhaustion beginning to creep up on her. Her head ached subtly, and her limbs were getting heavier with every movement.

Eventually, they were back in the car, Rachel sitting up front with Alfred while Bruce sat with Kris in the back. He still wouldn't tell her why he was upset, but she could tell by the set jaw and tense eyes that he was practically fuming. She didn't have the energy to ask why, though. She just sat back, watching the world fly by as they drove back over the bridge. Turning to her new adoptive parent, she could only muster up the effort and energy for one question.

"Can we go get those burgers and shakes now?"

Bruce turned back towards the young girl, looking startled. He hadn't expected her to speak after what had just happened. Kris had a tendency to shut down after showing too much emotion for too long; it seemed like a coping mechanism, she just kind of drew into herself. He recovered, though, and meeting eyes with Rachel told him what he had been thinking: she was talking to him instead of drawing in because she felt safe.

He made her feel safe.

Smiling gently, he reached an arm around her shoulders and gave them a small squeeze, nodding. "Yeah, we can."

Kinda short, I know, but next one will be longer, I promise. The next chapter will also take place about a year after this one. Hope you guys are well!