The discussion about Sinéad's taste in men, and the overall conversation dialogue itself, also came from "Untamed Heart". This is the other movie besides "The Mummy" which is basis for the story and its characters interacting. :)
Chapter Two
"God, did he tell you why he'd dump you so heartlessly?" Evelyn Miller asked her, anger creeping into her own voice, the feeling coursing through her far worse than temperature rising. This poor girl, who had obviously been through enough in her life, didn't deserve what she got. Not. One. Bit. It reminded her so much of when she first told her former love, the father of her child, that they couldn't be together as long as he was needed elsewhere.
The biggest mistake she'd ever made in her life.
Sinéad let out a little moan of despair as she downed down the drink she'd ordered - a Wild Irish Rose - with haste. The sight made Evelyn worry. The thorn in a hangover the next day was this very beverage imported from the girl's native homeland. It was very foul, but Sinéad obviously was in the need for a bad taste to take her mind off the bad twenty-four-hours past. "He just said that we should start seeing other people," she said.
"Well, he's a jerk," Evelyn said, hoping it would make her feel a tad better.
But Sinéad shook her head. "All my exes were. I don't even think I'll find love ever again."
Her statement shocked both her and Anna. "Oh, girl, don't ever say that!" Anna cried, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, taking a long drag. "Chances are that he'll just go crawling back to you and saying, 'Oh, Sinéad, I've missed you. Can you please take me back into your loving arms?'"
"Anna, chances of that are slim to none." Evelyn snorted and looked back at the young girl on the verge of crying. "Sinéad, I've been down this road many times. You have to put your foot down, because you're too good to be walked all over by some idiot who doesn't respect your standards."
She scoffed, clearly not believing her. She stood up and reached into her purse to pay for her drink. "Yeah, well, I got other things to worry about than a broken heart right now."
Evelyn frowned as she watched her slip her jacket on. "Are you sure you'll be fine? There are a lot of crazies out there." Except much of them have been brought in by the authorities and denied parole under the Dent Act. Safe to say that the streets of Gotham had been clean since the death of the heroic DA. But only a scant few still lingered. No city was without crime, but Gotham was without organized crime because the Dent Act - God rest Harvey's soul - gave law enforcement teeth in its fight against the mob.
"Yes, I'll be fine." There then was the sound of a chair being knocked over, and a body thudding to the ground. All heads turned to see Jonathan Crane's body crumpled to the floor. He had ended up having one too many again. Evelyn groaned and slapped her forehead. How many times was she going to end up carrying him all the way home at this hour? Plus, her son was at home waiting for her. In less than seven months, he was going to start going to school, but the problem was that she would have a hard time trying to find an earlier time to leave work so she could pick him up afterwards.
Anna gave the fallen man a scoff. "Oh, what the hell again? I'm out of here, so you're on your own, Eve." She threw her heavy blue coat over herself and left them alone, walking past a moaning Crane and out the door. Sinéad's gasp of disbelief matched her own.
"Cad é an ifreann? What the hell? Who the hell does she think she is?" the Irish native exclaimed as she rushed over to help the wasted - and clearly depressed - man off of the floor, as he seemed to match her own weight, or maybe less. It saddened Evelyn to her core. Long ago had she stopped hating him after seeing how he'd been living his life after leaving Arkham Asylum. He was her neighbor, but based on a slight peek into his home and seeing him repeat the same routine day to day - spending his days off cooped up in his small abode and barely leaving the house, days he worked serving alcohol all day, Monday nights stripping for strangers, and every night staying until closing hour even when his shift ended downing down drink after drink and then staggering out the door - each time ending with her being the one to help him home. But tonight was an exception as she needed to get home to her son as much as it hurt her.
So who would be the one to take care of Crane?
"Why does she treat him like this?" Sinéad's voice broke her out of her thoughts. "There has to be a reason, because if there isn't, then I suppose she's nothing like the friend you see her as. I sure as hell wouldn't have someone like that as my friend."
She did have a point; Anna tended to be a bitch, there were still things she couldn't stand about her, but she was still her friend, the very last person she had after losing everything she had - except for her child - and accepted her.
"Let me ask you something. What does your so-called friend have against him?"
The question caught her off-guard. This girl had no idea who Jonathan Crane was. He was fairly notorious around much of Gotham, and she was so oblivious…and yet uncaring for whom he was. Well, Evelyn wasn't planning to tell her everything just tonight. "Well, it's a long story, but for short, he used to be head doctor at the insane asylum, until the Batman - I'm sure you know the Batman, right?" Sinéad nodded. "Yeah, well, the Batman had him demoted to one of the mental patients. Let's just say that Jonathan wasn't mentally sound right from the start."
Sinéad looked at her with the wide eyes of a curious child interested in the latest bedtime story, looking like she had more questions, but just simply nodded. "Well, life must have been hard for him since he was released then, wasn't it? I've noticed how everyone looks at him with a sneer, whispering words to each other - and I don't even want to know what they say - and it all bothers me very much, indeed." She looked down when Crane moaned against the tiled surface. His face was dazed; he was on the verge of falling asleep right here on the floor.
"Sure does to me, too." Suddenly it hit her like a bolt. "Sinéad, I feel so awful asking you this, but can you take care of him for me tonight? I really need to get home to my son."
Sinéad had just finished helping Crane onto a new chair when the favor had been asked. She lifted her head, and her lush green eyes met Evelyn's blue ones. "You know, it's funny, I was just thinking of asking. I'll bring him to my place for the night."
After giving Crane's address and when her shift ended, watching the girl lead him out the front door, Evelyn finished the last of polishing the table and bringing the rest of the empty beer and shot glasses and was prepared to grab her coat when Al met her at the entrance of the back door.
"She really does have a heart, you know, Eve?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Unlike Anna. I don't even know why she treats people like this."
"I do, too," Evelyn agreed as she zipped up her black jacket that reached her waist.
Her boss and acting father figure stepped aside to let her out, but she stopped and looked back at him when she heard him sigh. "You know, experience working on me, I feel like that child's the one who could…you know, save his life."
Evelyn frowned. Save his life? What did that mean? "I don't understand."
"Well, we both know how that boy's been living his life since that god-awful place let him out. Life's putting a good weight on him, which means that with all the pressure he's been under, he could very much resort to depression and eventually suicide. I'm no psychologist, but I know that much."
She pondered this with a short, couple nods. He was absolutely right. There were likely some traces of the negative sides of mentally sound in Crane's mind, which would lead to him ending his own life one day. She couldn't let that happen. The more thrill-seeking side of her would have wanted to be rid of him before after what he did to her and the Narrows, but no. She wasn't a sadist. This was a life that was depended on.
It was then that she spotted the canvas on the wall facing her, far off, of Sinéad's own creation. It was a painting depicting a dark-haired dancer in a ruffled, backless black dress amid a swirling red background. Shortly after arriving, Sinéad had commissioned herself in making this original work of art for the club and bringing more color and character to life. Well, Al was right about one thing: if that girl could bring life to the club, then maybe she could do the same to a slowly falling apart Jonathan Crane.
Just watch.
~o~
Getting a drunken man into her home proved to be a minor challenge, and that meant having to haul him up the stairs, but it was mainly easy given that Jonathan - whatever his last name was - was barely even the same weight as her one-hundred-and-fifteen. Malnourished could be the correct term, and it broke Sinéad's heart thinking that. If that was one of the cases, then she was going to make sure he got some food in him later. The reason she decided to bring him home instead of dropping him off just like that was for a number of reasons. She didn't want him to end up uncomfortable passed out wherever he'd end up, and also because of how terrible he was looking tonight.
Good thing she left the window curtains opened to let in the city lights of Gotham pour in and illuminate half of the room, because she had to set Jonathan down on the sofa, watch him collapse against the black suede limply as a doll, then turned to turn on the lights and quickly lock the door before turning back around.
Her apartment was big compared to what any poor artist would own back home in Ireland, or any one in general. When she first bought it during college years, she thought it was a quaint "spacious, chic living space," as the Americans put it. Quaint being her word as it wasn't as grandeur as the rich would have theirs. The living room was large enough to accommodate the large black suede sofa, the Firenze coffee table, a reading corner, and a television set in a sleek black, nine-shelved arch. The soft-colored bamboo flooring allowed the light to flow freely in the apartment. Most likely if any guests' attention was caught, it would most likely be by the wall drawing not made by her, but was a favorite - the black-and-white print of a snowy path lined with trees and centered with the message One who walks a road with love will never walk the road alone - which gave the room a meaningful touch. Set before that was a fountain that you could gaze at long enough to be transported back to the mystic world of Middle Earth, where brooks soothed the soul and giant trees served as guardians of the forest; a round glass top serving as a table rested upon the branches. Lighting up the whole room - and also in her bedroom - was a contemporary chandelier of smooth white spikes that could only resemble mother-of-pearl from a distance.
She walked over to where Jonathan lay on his side, facing the doorway that led straight to her bedroom. Sinéad stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. She couldn't just leave him there uncomfortable on the couch once he woke up. He needed to be taken care of and comfortable.
"Come on, Jonathan, let's get you settled in." She lifted him up under the back, then flung his arm over her shoulder so she could support him the rest of the way into her bedroom. This one room of the place was pure comfort with the bed, nightstand, and vanity of incredible mahogany wood carved with vine motifs and a carved crest on the bed's headboard and footboard to set the Old World tradition. Behind the bed was a whole wall painted a cool gray with darker gray, narrow trees and bare branches for an adroit, elegant air of cool serenity. Off to the far corner was her small art studio, consisting of the easel the same color as the floor, on top of a clean, yet thick layer of white cloths, the art supplies all in place on a neat array of shelves against the wall next to the easel, and in the corner next to it all was a planted palm tree to add tropical ambience to the room. Between her "studio" and the plant was the door to her bathroom. Jonathan moaned as he lay on the bed, sighing then as he savored the feel of the fresh dark green covered with pure white orchid flowers - the picture so realistic and lush - and his head rolled to the side. Sinéad took this moment to examine him.
He looked so small and frail in his t-shirt and jeans - they fit him rather sadly if she said so - but the fact that he looked so handsome in them… She shook her head. This was how she felt about all three of her ex-boyfriends in the early stages. Add in the fact that he looked to be at least thirty-something years old, unless he was younger than that. His extremely dark hair was all over the place, and there were dark circles under his eyes; he must not get any sleep. Sinéad might be crossing the line, but she would gladly say that this man had more than one bad day other than what Evelyn was telling her.
Looking him over, she considered undressing him and slipping him into the bed, but decided against it as she would be disrespecting his privacy while he was passed out on her bed. So she settled on slipping off his socks and shoes, and his jeans, and then set his glasses on the nightstand beside him, leaving him in his t-shirt and underwear…to which she discovered, to her own embarrassment, that he was a briefs man. She quickly slipped him under the covers and draped them back over him. He moaned and settled under them for the night. Smiling down at him in all his peace and innocence, Sinéad left him to get ready for the night.
Her bathroom was just as modern as the rest of her apartment, with the glass shower stall and black sink drawers, but the rest of the appliances - tub, sink, and toilet - were all shiny, stark white while the walls and floors were cool gray sleet tiles. Next to the shower stall and between the acrylic rectangular tub was a vase fashioned also into a fountain. Water trickled down a pile of stones, illuminated with soft light, and a potted plant was on top to give it a peaceful aura. She undressed and showered and exited it to grab her nightshirt, and was about to throw it on as she stopped and gazed at herself in the mirror, half-fogged enough for her to see herself clad only in her underwear.
There it was, right above her left breast: the black ink image of a mermaid, the long hair and tail fin carefully crafted into the Celtic knot fashion. This had been on her since she was born. According to Gran Siobhán, a mermaid was who she was, and that it was no fairytale, but her life would have been in danger if anyone ever found out. Same with everyone else out there who happened to be mythical creatures of all cultures in human form, survived the centuries of their kind. That night her grandmother told her it all changed her whole life forever, but secrecy had to be sworn from then on.
Gran Siobhán's words from that night could still be heard as crystal clear:
"The mermaid - half-woman, half-fish - is a powerful mythological figure in many parts of this world. Especially in our culture along with the water nymphs and sprites, every oceanic spirit associates with the mermaid, which represents the ethereal feminine element, whose habitat is the unknown and dangerously powerful realm of the unconscious..."
Hidden in the top shelf of her bedroom closet was what she'd been given all those years ago, "for when the time is right." Whatever time that was she did not know, but as the saying goes: Expect the unexpected. She hadn't forgotten her grandmother's warnings for that. With that being said, Sinéad threw on her nightshirt and wrap her hair in a towel. Her favorite body and facial cream left her skin feeling moisturized and silky-smooth, keeping her skin radiant, youthful and smelling like fresh rain. When she went back into the bedroom, Jonathan was still sound asleep in her bed, deep in stupor and far more realistic than Sleeping Beauty…
Oh, that reminds me, I don't know where I'm going to sleep. I can't just have him wake up next to me in bed. He'll overreact and think I did something to him.
Except this was her bed. She didn't know what to do, but she couldn't just dump him onto the couch like this. Well, she could always explain it in the morning if he was ever that reasonable. But from what Evelyn told her, Jonathan tended to be hard to reason. He was arrogant, cocky, self-centered…
Or maybe there's something about him that nobody knows. With that being said, Sinéad shut off all the lights and settled down next to a passed out Jonathan for the night, without touching him in any way that would freak him out.
~o~
Home, sweet home. Except the living wasn't as sweet as the phrase. Three things: one, she and her son lived in a neighborhood where only a few nice people lived. Two, the reason they were living here was because of what happened after the Joker's reign, resulting in her forcibly leaving everyone, let them believe she was dead. And three, this was the best the money she had left and worked hard for had to offer.
Evelyn sighed as she knocked on the door that belonged to the residence where her son stayed during the day as she worked. She was feeling really anxious at the moment, because by now the babysitter was awaiting the weekly thirty-dollar fee as soon as she returned. Well, sadly after paying rent last week, she'd been unable to pay the babysitter, Miss Mildred, who happened to also run the back alley daycare in the neighborhood. Four other women worked in it, but Miss Mildred was the head of them all. It also meant that, if you're unable to pay the fee one week, it's double the next. That's sixty dollars' worth of payment.
"Mommy!" She laughed when the little terror himself nearly smashed into her as soon as the door opened, crushing her leg in a tight hug. She bent down to pick him up and receive kisses all over her face. Come to think that when he got older he wouldn't need her much anymore. Except that was a long way off.
"Girl, you got my money?"
"Oh, yes, I do, Miss Mildred." Evelyn set her son, four-year-old Damien, down and reached into her purse to pull sixty dollars out of her wallet and hand over to the aged black woman with her gray hair tied into a painfully tight bun, wrinkly brown skin stretched across her face.
"You know I've been keeping track of how many times you hadn't been able to give me my money. This is the third time, and third time's the strike." Beady black eyes pierced through her sharper than a knife. "And you know what that saying means, right, girl?"
Evelyn sucked in a breath, feeling her son's little hand grip hers as he looked between his mother and the scary older woman who babysat him during the day. But she would not let herself and her boy be intimidated by this woman. "I know, and I am so sorry that sometimes I'm unable to give you the money depending on the week's salary -"
"Young lady, I'm running a daycare. Not a welfare."
An illegal daycare. But she didn't want to make Miss Mildred angrier than she already was. "I'm sorry," she settled on instead. But Miss Mildred scoffed and shook her head.
"Now, I know you bounced from one daycare center to another over the last few years, so you better be glad that mine is one that'll let you leave your child here while you're off getting money from a haven of male and female whores, drunken apes, and wasted youths. But let me give you a warning: next time I won't keep your boy another minute." With that, she slammed the door in Evelyn's face.
"Bitch," she hissed under her breath so Damien wouldn't hear. "Come on, baby."
"Would she really kick me out, Mommy?" he asked as they began the walk down the three blocks to their home.
"I hope not," was all Evelyn could tell him. They walked in silence the rest of the way home. Their home on the third floor, still on Blue Grave Avenue, was humble, but it wasn't ratty. It was warm and inviting, natural in lighting and color. The space in every room was white in the walls, with soft honey hardwood floors, and beige carpeting in the living room and two bedrooms. Except the kitchen, with the dining area in the same room, had tiled floors and an open space, paired with quaintness to her liking when she first bought it. The living area had an amazing space for everything that was required in a home, from the television to the sofa and loveseat, to the basket-weave coffee table, and to a play area in the corner for Damien. There was a doorway in the kitchen that led right into Damien's bedroom, but from the living room was the door to the mother's room.
It was here now that Evelyn stood in, removing her jacket and throwing it onto the bed. The bed, vanity, and nightstand were all simply carved black wood, no ornamentation or fancy scrollwork or anything, and the bedcovers were simply white with a few mahogany pillows for more color. Resting on the nightstand was the black lamp with a white shade to match the wall behind it, the alarm clock…
…and an antique-framed portrait of herself and the man she loved. Long before her world shattered, back when her hair was longer than it was now, and times when she was making contributions to the city even though it was an outkill battle. And back when her name wasn't Evelyn Miller.
Rachel Dawes felt the tears sting her eyes as she lifted the portrait to her face, wishing that the opportunity came when she could have the family she wanted. Her, Bruce, and Damien - the complete family, in Wayne Manor, just as it should be.
So, yup. "Evelyn Miller" is really Rachel Dawes. :D She got pregnant with Bruce's child not long after SURVIVING the explosion, but that explanation will be revealed later. And better yet: he's named DAMIEN, and it was a good idea from the start. Also, in case anyone is wondering about her and the note she left Bruce, that will also be revealed in time.
Sinéad's apartment and all its contents are items from real life, though I no longer have the sources I got them from, as well as their descriptions which are actually as written. Anyone familiar is able to recognize them, or not. I really wanted her to have a contemporary feel - and the fact she is a MERMAID in human form. :D Thanks to CrowsAce for that idea, and a mermaid brought up on my part. As well, thanks to the quoted research I did on this creature I've loved since I was a kid.
Drunk Jonathan also was inspired by the fourth and fifth chapters of "Every Other Way" by SamuraiSmee, one of my favorite Bruce/Jonathan fics. XD
Miss Mildred, the mean babysitter, and some of the lines were from "Meet the Browns" a Tyler Perry comedy I love so much, but the actual character from the movie is actually more understanding than this one.