Young Justice
A Fiery Passion
Chapter three: Let's Play Surprises
Inside the bathroom, I drop my backpack onto the floor, glad that the straps missed my bandages. Excitement is bubbling inside me as I am somewhat able to open the pack to look upon its contents. I feel a smile spread over my face as I notice my purple tank top folded up on the top layer, a white cardigan is directly underneath. My favorite pair of denim light blue jeans lays under my tops. I'll have to sincerely thank Artemis and Megan- their sense of fashion was personally amazing and incredibly helpful- whenever Batman chose for me to meet them. Hopefully soon. Honestly, I can't wait. The anticipation will be my demise sooner rather than later. Preferably later.
Instantly I pull the outfit from its carrier, intending for a good change and anticipating the difficulty of doing so. The change of clothes goes as fast as I can make it, ten minutes. It is painful enough to simply bend my wrists to put on my shirt, and buttoning my pants nearly brings tears into my eyes.
Ah hell. I'm crying.
Instantly, by habit, I begin to do my obnoxious donkey cough and desperately blink my eyes, refusing to use my bandaged arms to wipe the desperate tears away. I hate crying. It's a sign of weakness. My mother told me this after I bawled my eyes out when I realized that my gold fish died after two months of happy living. Those were the days that I learned about my tendency to react. In some cases and recently, overreacting.
I cough miserably, holding back the tears that wanted to stain my hopeful future. If anything, I won't let my new life see me like this, ever. And if I do … I shake the thought away, hoping that nothing will ever come of it.
After dejectedly brushing my teeth and washing my face best I can, I leave the bathroom, feeling as clean as I can get until I'm able to take a real shower elsewhere. Hospitals and bathrooms in the same sentence freak me out somehow, and I don't even know why.
Back inside my room, with my back pack settled on my shoulders and my hair hanging down, tangled and unbrushed, I wait impatiently for Batman to finish his call with his hush-hush friends. I sigh dramatically, switching the weight from my right to left leg as I inspect the gauze on my arms for the fifteenth time. The pain comes and goes, but it's not a burning sensation anymore and that feels like progress to me.
By the time Batman's one-sided conversation ends, I have already picked away at the edge of my gauze wrapping and the almost healed scabs that are already in place by my elbow. The Dark Knight turns to me and crosses his arms over his chest.
A sheepish grin is my simple response.
He shakes his head, his masked eyes closed. I wonder what he is thinking for the briefest moment. I shift my weight again nervously. "Hey… Batman…" I whisper loudly, getting his attention. The man opens his eyes and nods his head once, curtly. Taking that as my cue, I continue, "Can you put my hair up for me, please? It's getting…annoying." I offer him a ponytail holder that I found wrapped around my hairbrush handle.
The response from the Dark Knight is a blank stare, as if he's seen a cow eating the grass in someone's front yard. I force a smile away at the thought. He does not shrug his shoulders, nor does he make a vocal agreement, instead he simply takes the rubber band from my hold and walks behind me.
I feel my knotted hair being gathered into one hand while the other collects the few strays. I can tell by the way he handles my hair, silently, as he tries to put it on the top of my head that he has never done anything like this before.
"Uh… make sure pony tail has three loops around the band, so that way the hair won't fall out," I instruct, my voice wavering. "My hair is kind of thin… But there is just so much of it, which makes it seem like there is a lot. But top secretly, there really isn't," I babble. The movement of my hair as Batman put it into a pony tail is unstable and shaky. I feel for the pony tail and smile a bit.
The slightest moment I think back to when my dad used to do my hair all the time for me. I can feel a cloud dampening at my mood once again.
Batman finishes quickly with the medial task, I investigate my face within the mirror. The reflection gazes back at me with a small smile and wide, my dark green eyes that have the faint tint of red from crying. The freckles that spread over my nose and cheeks have lightened quite a bit. As I stare into the mirror, I know that I can't fix the finished product of my hair placement. Not only do I not want to, I can't. For all I know he is probably sensitive to having his work being demolished and rebuilt to be something better than it was before.
My hair is loose as it falls down over my shoulder. At the end of my hair is the rubber band, tied tightly around my hair to keep the ends together. I turn from the mirror and grin. "Thanks, I appreciate it."
The two of us leave the room swiftly, not bothering to argue with the nurses in the hallway that insist that I stay longer. They claim that my bandages need changing, even though I had them changed last night. Batman waves off the horde of nurses, claiming that I will be just fine. Although my skin is healing at a strangely fast pace, it is gross to watch the burnt skin fall off and be replaced by scabs created in the formation of new skin.
With Batman having his great respect for high authority, I find it surprising to see all the nurses go their separate ways. I suppose that it is the persona that Batman has -that stern look, the tension in his jaw when he speaks in phrases- that makes people listen to him. He does not say another word after the horde of nurses have left us alone.
We go to the front desk: Well, Batman goes. I follow, slightly confused. He asks the secretary for my papers and pays for my stay and my other expenses. I stand next to him, shocked. Why is he doing this? My mother, of all people, should be paying for my hospital trip. Not him.
"You have a beautiful daughter, Sir," says the secretary, her eyes darting back from between the two of us while she prints out the papers that Batman has requested. She smiles politely at me as she types some information into her computer.
I frown at her complement, not because she said I was beautiful, but at the genetics part. Clearly, I cannot be related to Batman. I know what my dad looked like and who he was a person, there is absolutely no way that Batman can be my father. I am about to protest when Batman murmurs a quick, "Thank you" to the secretary. She smiles again, this time bigger and better, as if she's solved the world's greatest secret: Batman has an injured daughter in Rhode Island.
"What are you doing?" I look at him in alarm, my eyes wide. The secretary just chuckles as she slides the rest of the sign-out papers over to the Dark Knight. He quickly signs his initials, folds my pile of papers in half, thanks the secretary with a nod, and turns for the door his cape flowing behind him. I follow him, my mouth hanging open, astonished.
How could he tell that secretary that I am his daughter? Why did he want my information? How did he get a hold of my birth certificate and my social security number? Why did he pay for my hospital bill? Why… Why is this happening?
Outside the hospital the sun is beating down on us, telling us that it's early morning. I keep up with Batman's fast pace in the middle of the parking lot. His black cape glistens behind him gracefully under the sunlight, and I wince from the intensity, making sure I don't lose sight of him. He is walking so fast that he's practically running. I'm forced to do a half jog to keep up with him, my backpack slapping against my back in doing so.
"You said you'd answer my questions," I remind him as we come up to… The Batmobile. I am walking in a dream, there is no way this is real. The car is long and sleek and black, of course. The posterior definitely gives off a 'built for speed' aura. It does not have wings in the back, like the news portrayal from when Batman left a crime scene he'd been investigating. As I gawk at it, Batman chuckles.
"Were you expecting a minivan?" he asks as he walks over to the driver's door, opens it, and gets in. My face instantly becomes fiery hot at the rhetorical question and, taking it as my cue to get in, slowly move to the passenger's seat.
Interior design for cars, particularly expensive cars, is very intriguing, especially when it involves bright blue lights that lights up the background for the radio buttons and the gauges on the dash. Somehow, while I shrug off my backpack and set it by my feet and lean into the leather seat, a sense of relaxation overwhelms me. Who would think of such a term from the inside the coolest car ever?
Batman starts up the engine and by magic- or engineering- the seat belt comes over and buckles itself. I tug at it, for curiosity reasons, and come to the conclusion that it must be magnetic. Most likely for safety possibilities so that the belt would never be unlatch during an accident.
The engine is as silent as its driver I think to myself as we leave the hospital grounds and get on the highway that heads east, towards the coast. My brow furrows in confusion: Why so far out?
"Where are we going? Is it the beach?" I ask, turning to Batman after staring out the window. He doesn't say anything, just drives. He does not take his eyes off the road when he finally does respond.
"To Mount Justice." His voice is clear. I've been to the mountain before with my cousins during spring break, when there was still some snow on the peak. That had caught my attention.
"Are we going hiking?" I ask, grinning.
Batman shakes his head. "No." The answer made it obvious that hiking was not the purpose of going to the mountain and we're obviously not going to the beach. My excitement began to bubble, and I conclude that I'd rather be excited than angry. I lean back into my seat and sigh. Why are we going there?
The League had used it before as headquarters years ago, but when some extra bad guy discovered its purpose, the Justice League set up camp at the Hall of Justice, which is much more public than the mountain itself anyways.
We take a turn off the highway, the green sea-side mountain coming into view. Minutes later and I'm practically bouncing in my seat. I smile and plaster my face to the window as we come up to the entrance of the mountain. Green pine trees of all ages come into view and pass us swiftly as we drive down the paved road.
The turns are sharp as we climb the mountain, and I am surprised that Batman's' vehicle is not crying out for rest. Soon enough the dirt road has come to an end, and we're taking an off-road trip between trees and shrubs on a path that has hardly been used.
"I thought you said we weren't going hiking," I accuse, raising my eyebrow at him. I so badly want to cross my arms over my chest and argue, like I would do with Mom, but I hold still. Batman keeps driving and does not reply. We emerge from the forest and into a clearing, slowing down to a crawl and then a stop. I frown.
"We're here," he says. He doesn't bother to take the keys out of the ignition and gets out of the car in one smooth motion.
"Huh," I mumble, unbuckling my seatbelt. Looping the strap of my backpack onto my arm, I open the door with my elbow and exit the Batmobile. After shutting the door with my hip I follow Batman to the center of the meadow.
Although the side of the mountain had a huge mountain wall, I find it unsurprising when a piece of grassy land begins to form into a ramp, heading downwards to expose metal surroundings. I look between Batman and the grassy ramp, my mouth hanging open again.
The Dark Knight heads towards the inside of the mountain, commanding without looking over his shoulder, "Come on, Rhyleigh," as though I were a small child staring at the world's largest Ferris wheel while my father is trying to get me to go home.
Come to think of it, that did happen. I close my gaping mouth and follow Batman solemnly. Suddenly a light blue laser envelopes Batman, and in a mechanic voice it states, "Recognized, Batman, 02." When I pass through the blue lasers, the voice monotones once more, "Recognized, Rhyleigh, C08".
Alright guys, We are picking up speed here. I'm redoing and hopefully going to finish this story so that it can finally get the conclusion it deserves. 4 years I neglected this project. And It's high time that I get back to it. Especially now that Season 3 is finally here!