AN: An AU exercise, just out of curiosity.
SwordStitcher-At least she knocks now. Used to be you'd wake up to find some wailing clown going on about rubber chickens. Bloody ridiculous.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-Yeah, it is. Why d'you think I put up with him? Hey! Only joking, love. You'd better be. And I don't know...Batman, or test subjects? Oh, they're both so tempting...
KittyComeHere-Why? The tax breaks? As if the IRS is going to look for me. And Gotham's nice. Well, until you get in my way, or Joker takes a shine to your face...
Jasmine Scarthing-You and her both. Crazy child. What she sees in that madman, I will never know. Neither will I, actually.
House clean? Check. Any art that she might take exception to? Tucked safely in the closet. Modern medicines? In the safe.
He is not looking forward to her visit.
He's looking forward to it even less because Kitty has to work.
They didn't invite her, she invited herself. Just sent them a letter stating that she would be visiting the week of April second and that he had better make himself available.
Not for the first time, he curses having used his vacation time so early this year.
He straightens his shirt for the umpteenth time and makes sure his glasses are spotless. He could, he supposes, just not open the door, but she'd find a way in. He knows she will. It's not worth the panic.
Knockknock.
Firm and brief, that's her way. He takes a deep breath and calls, "Coming, Granny."
He should have killed her when he had the chance, but he really, really hadn't wanted blood on his hands. He wasn't a murderer, for heaven's sake! Some nights, though, he lies awake, wishing he'd had the spine to get rid of her.
He opens the door. Here she stands, back straight, eyes annoyingly cataract-free, with the hated wooden cane in her hand.
"Jonathan." she croaks. "Step aside, boy."
He should just slam the door. But he lets her in, wondering why she had to come. She doesn't like him, he doesn't like her, so why is she here?
He closes the door and clasps his hands behind his back, watching as she shuffles around the room, running one boney finger along every surface she can find.
"Go and get me a lemonade, Jonathan."
"Yes, Granny."
He hates lemonade.
When he returns to the room, she is studying a picture of Kitty and himself, taken shortly after their college graduation.
"Still living in sin, I see." She takes the glass from him and takes a sip. "Too much sugar."
"Sorry, Granny." At least she's not staying here. He offered-more out of fear than anything else-and she refused.
"You should be."
Shame the walls are so thin. He could strangle her otherwise. Well, maybe, if he didn't think he'd get caught. Or, more accurately, that she would hit him over the head with her cane. Or worse.
"How is your arthritis, Granny?"
"Worse by the day." she grumbles. "Well? Aren't you going to offer me a seat?"
He gestures to the couch and she sits down, her eyes flitting around the room. He can feel his hands shaking.
They sit in an awkward silence. Then…
"You always were a disappointment, boy." Oh, boy. Here it comes. "You leave your poor old Granny to fend for herself, just so you can run off and be some sort of quack doctor!"
"I…"
"After all I did for you, you left!"
He has nothing to say. What's he supposed to say? 'Seeing as you used to attack me with that cane…'
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Nothing." he says softly. "I'm sorry, I don't…"
She scowls and begins to cough. He hopes briefly that she'll choke to death, but she doesn't.
"Worthless." she grumbles. "Absolutely worthless."
Then why is she here? He didn't ask her to come. He'd been hoping she would have a heart attack, to be honest.
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, boy. And sit up straight."
He just wants to disappear into the couch.
"S-sorry, Granny."
"Don't stutter."
He folds his hands in his lap and digs his nails into his palms. Why won't she leave? What are they supposed to do, anyway, sit here for half an hour, staring at the carpet?
He sighs and wonders when she's going to leave. Surely she won't stay here all afternoon.
He wishes the phone would ring. Then he could say he has to go to work. But it doesn't ring.
She's watching him. He wishes she'd blink already.
Why won't she blink?
She stands up. Is she leaving? He's off the hook? God, please let her be leaving…
"Well, I can't say I expected too much from you." she rasps. "Good bye, Jonathan."
He stands up to walk her out. She's leaving. She's leaving! She probably won't be back-surely she won't live for too much longer.
He opens the door and steps aside.
"Good bye, Granny."
He has no time to react when she strikes him hard across the face.
"Mind your tone, boy."
That's going to leave a mark. Cantankerous old hag…
"Sorry, Granny."
She sniffs and marches out. He hopes to hear the sounds of someone falling down the stairs, but he isn't so lucky.
He closes the door and goes back into the main room to put the glass in the dishwasher and get the place back in order.
Hopefully she won't come again.
THE END