Here comes a moment worth waiting for. :D One being between the reunited Bruce and Rachel, and the one involving Jonathan as well as Sinéad. Hold onto your seats, kiddies! XD
As an additional note, I blame my Irish blood (and I am full American, in addition) for loving my OC, her heritage and everything else, so much.
Chapter Six
"How are you alive?"
She'd seen Sinéad slip out of the room as though unsure if she was supposed to be here or not and deciding no. There was also no mistaking the shock on her face as she learned her real name was Rachel; an explanation was owed for later. Rachel watched her go before answering his question; at the same time when she answered, it felt so heart-wrenching and so exhilarating to be in his arms again. But the way he looked now, unshaven and smelling that spoke of too few showers or so, made her heart break all the way again. Her "death" really did an enormous beat on him.
"I'm so sorry, Bruce," she whispered, drawing back to look into his eyes. "But it was for your safety, mine, and Gotham's."
"How was faking your death for mine?" he demanded, suddenly so angry that she drew back in fright. "Four years of locking myself in my own house and hanging up the cape and cowl because I knew I couldn't live life without you!"
"You think I wanted this!" Rachel gasped, enraged. "I never wanted to leave all of this behind, but it was all necessary for the sake of our child!" She didn't unintentionally let it slip; it was meant to happen, and she wasn't afraid. Damien deserved to meet his father, and Bruce deserved to know that he had a son. And there it was: his anger gone, replaced by pure shock.
"We have...a kid?"
"Yeah, a son. Damien. I found out I was pregnant not long after I went into hiding." She looked around and found a loveseat; walking over to it, she sat down, knowing he would follow her. "He knows who his father is, but so much has happened I didn't know what to do once I knew it was safe to come back," Rachel said, looking him square in the eye.
"Why were you hidden?"
She sucked in a breath; she knew that was coming. "It's complicated, and you won't believe much of it...or anything at all."
~o~
She was happy with herself that Bruce Wayne made her work known to the world that night, but moreover, she finally knew how Evelyn knew him: they'd been childhood sweethearts, having grown up together in Wayne Manor until his parents died and she and her mother, the maid, moved out. She grew up to become a successful assistant district attorney and he just went on to do what he did best. He inherited his family's company, but they never became officially a couple because she was dating district attorney Harvey Dent until a vicious war-painted criminal called the Joker sent Gotham into panic, supposedly killing Rachel Dawes in one of his planned explosions and leaving the DA without half a face.
Her name isn't Evelyn Miller. It's Rachel Dawes...and it's so weird since I've known her that way for so long.
The story reminded her of a tragic love tale, but then again, as she went back to Adisa's that following Monday night only to see Jonathan again, she had a buzz of more questions on her mind. If Rachel loved Bruce Wayne and had his son whom she'd raised on her own the last four years, then why was she with Harvey Dent?
The best answer she could come up with was the simple idea that you don't have to go looking for who was your special someone; they're always right in front of you when you least expect it. That was her only answer as she sat at the bar, wearing a gray sweatshirt hoodie over a light blue t-shirt, black knit pants and boots...where she kept her secret weapon at all times that Gran Siobhán gave her as a child and told her to keep on her at all costs but to hide from the world "until the time was right". There was always a "when the time is right" catch. Her senses tingled that something was going to happen tonight and begin another step in her ever-changing life. Change is always for good or for worse, and I've been prepared.
Anna had the night for herself, but Rachel was nowhere to be found. Sinéad hadn't seen her since Friday night, so when she asked for her, Anna gave a little laugh. "She quit."
"What?" Sinéad blinked in surprise.
"She quit," the Hispanic repeated, wiping off the counter from the latest spills. "She handed it in over the weekend, then she and the kid moved in with Wayne. They're finally a family again." Anna gave a proud smile. "Damien always knew he had a father but never met him, so I have a feeling it won't be that bad."
There was another point underneath the surface that suggested there was more to know. It was as though she was...nervous about her friend moving in with the man she hadn't seen for four years, who was also the father of her child. "Anna, is something wrong?"
The other woman's eyes widened for a moment before fading to a smile. "No, why?"
"Because you seem like you don't -" Before Sinéad could finish, she heard voices behind her that she recognized too well; well, one. Spinning around, she saw Jonathan - Jonathan in a leather revealing costume that hid little for the imagination, and her cheeks flushed, her heartrate picking up at his body showed more for her eyes, namely the outlines best left for a girlish fantasy - being dragged for the back room by a man nearly twice his size, and then two more men followed in. Her stomach lurched at what was obvious to happen there, but there was no way in hell she would let them do horrible things to Jonathan. "Anna, could you excuse me?" She quickly left the bar without waiting for a reply and made her way to the restrooms - everyone shared the same one - so once she was inside and quickly closed the door, she waited for a few to make sure Anna's attention, as well as Al's, was away from this. If they saw what she was trying to do, then they would try to stop her for the sake of the club.
She leaned into the wall beside her and heard voices. Jonathan's was muffled, but he was panicking and trying to escape his fate, while maniacal laughs were heard and sadistic pleasures in hurting him. She didn't know if he knew those men before and they paid him back for whatever he did to them, or if they were random and simply knew him and wanted to "take justice" into their own hands. Either way, she reached for her dagger in her right boot and hid it up the sleeve of her sweatshirt, exiting the restroom. Sinéad had limited ninja fighting training, having taken many of them back home in Ireland and then in Gotham since the streets were dangerous enough.
Mermaids were kind, gentle creatures, but when offended, their rages were great, so the fire in her was no exception as she did her best to stick the point of the blade into the lock and turning it without making a sound, quickly hiding the blade again as the door was opened to show a balded man in black and numerous tattoos glaring down at her. "Bitch, what are you doing here?"
Behind him, Sinéad's temper burst when she actually saw what they were doing to Jonathan: there he was, facedown on the bed used for "bigger tips", stripped naked of his costume and tied to all four posts eagle fashion while another man was positioned in a certain position between his legs while the third took pictures with a camera. They were going to post them for the world to see and humiliate Jonathan! She growled with a fury and shoved her way past in with all her strength. This she would not allow, not even if she would risk her own freedom killing these monsters. Jonathandid not deserve this, no matter what he did in the past.
"Let him go."
"Just who do you think you are, coming in on us like this, little lady?" the man with the camera drawled, ceasing his job and putting the device away. The one violating Jonathan from behind pulled himself out fast and rough, making the poor man cry out in pain and whimpered, joining his friends and not bothering to cover himself up. It sickened Sinéad to her core, drawing out the very blade her grandmother passed down to her: Lann na beatha, translated to mean"blade of life". It was a weapon her family long held before she was born, but her parents never spoke anything about such lineages. Gran's family had been the magical creatures which she was, and her mother who was Siobhán's daughter was also a mermaid, but when her husband found out what she really was, he didn't leave her, but instead remained trapped in a marriage with an otherworldly creature under a human shell.
Sinéad's birth had been a curse to them; in Léan's case, she was the offspring of her and a man who no longer loved her and proved a burden to her, and in Brian's case, she also bore merfolk blood in her veins, which he never wanted to be associated with. Thank God the grandmother theory that grandchildren were loved more was passed down with truth.
It was usually the little blades you had to look out for, and in the case of the blade from Gran, it proved doubly true, not only because was it dangerous, but its stunning design was one not to miss by the victim's eye. The knot designs were similar to the Gaelic sgian dubh, or stainless steel; the metal handle was gray and accented the lighter toned Celtic knots. Set in the pommel was a vivid green gemstone with more Celtic knot designs in red. And such a perfect fantasy for an epic tale. She grinned internally at the frightened looks the men gave her, as it was clear they had no weapons of her own.
"Damn, this bitch is crazy!" the second man shrieked like a little girl, backing away into the bed and nearly falling on top of Jonathan. "Let's get the hell out of here!"
"Yes, you boys get away from him," she agreed, still brandishing her weapon. "I don't know why you're doing this, and I don't care. But if I ever catch either of you acidic porks near us again, you'll both get worse treatment from this to your boys." She pointed the dagger down south, motioning to their prized private parts, which scared the hell out of them instantly and made them turn and flee out yet another back door. The cameraman had dropped his device, which cluttered loudly to the floor. Her plan was to destroy it outright if there was anything horrible on there that needed to go to the police.
Sinéad picked it up and discovered it was the type of camera meant for simple photography, and she really did want to retch when she saw the horrid pictures of the man still on the bed, wrists and ankles to the ends, and she quickly abandoned the vile camera, still unsure if it needed to be destroyed or not because it depended entirely on Jonathan, and pulled a blanket over his nude form while she used her knife to cut the wires that held his hands and feet, but he didn't move or make a sound.
Then she saw it. Sinéad barely suppressed a gasp when she saw the elaborate design of wings on his back. Phoenix wings. My God, he's a phoenix. The detail of the wings, upon pulling the blanket down for a further look, was exquisite and so detailed that it'd be a tattoo for anyone's eyes, like hers would appear to be; only the ignorant ones. Without thinking, she reached out and ran the pad of her right forefinger over the middle of the wing covering his right side and shoulder...
...and then he howled in pain and bolted up, throwing the blanket off his body and running out through the same back door his assailants went, and into pouring rain. Sinéad reacted quickly and followed him out, safely tucking her knife back into her boot.
"Jonathan!"
There he was, out in the alley where no one else cared to be out at this time of night. Jonathan Crane was crouched in fetal position on the concrete ground, screaming in pain as though dying a violent death. She knew what was happening; he was changing, and physically, too. Never had she encountered a real phoenix before, but it was frightening. Jonathan's body began to convulse, and his hands and feet were sprouting talons and morphing hideously into bony bird-like appendages, moving to his limbs. He began to sit up slowly, painfully, as his body underwent a metamorphosis that any other human being would find appalling as they'd never seen before.
By the time Jonathan was sitting back up - Sinéad watched the whole time from the back door, closing it behind her as she stood out in the rain and witnessed the most shocking but not unexpected moment in her life - and kneeling as though bowing before his king or savior, the wings on his back began to become real ones, sprouting from the bones and tearing through flesh painfully, sparking real fire and blazing brighter than the sun. Sinéad brought her hand up before her eyes to keep her vision from going white with blindness. Jonathan's screams still echoed in her ears as the fire grew brighter enough to attract the attention of the whole neighborhood.
Some seconds passed by, but it felt like an eternity, and there was silence and darkness again, the rain still falling, and it worried her as she lowered her hand to show that all that remained of the phoenix was a shovel-pile of ashes. "Jonathan!" Sinéad ran over and quickly kneeled over, reaching out but not touching. If she touched it, who knew what would happen. According to most legends, phoenixes burst into flames when it was time to die, and reborn from the ashes.
And that was exactly what happened next. It was difficult to put into exact words, but from the ashes emerged a refreshed, still bare but otherwise unharmed Jonathan, his pale skin blotched with ash which was running now in dark streaks from the sky water.
His breathing was steady, but he looked so tired and worn out. It made her wonder if the blemishes inside his body, and internal scars, were healed from the fire. Die and reborn through fire, after all. He let out a gasp of precious air and laid down flat on his back, staring up at the sky blankly as an infant that had just left its mother's womb and wondering where he had just come to. Sinéad walked over to him and leaned down over him just to make sure he was all right. "Jonathan?" His name was a taste on her tongue too good for actual detailing, and it felt great. Because he needed her whether he needed help or not, as much as she wanted to help him now.
~o~
He stared up at her the whole time she leaned over him, the rain beginning to come into smaller amounts, but they were both still soaked, and his burning flesh was beginning to cool down. She, however, looked like a drowned rat in her clothes, but she didn't seem to care. The neckline of her shirt once more ruffled to show her mermaid insignia above her breast to him. Her long black hair was in thick, messy curls drenched. That was a siren right there above him; his body felt refreshed and pure as the oceans which the fabled marine creature herself lived, and the water from the sky above them both.
If Jonathan Crane had any money left, he would have gone to Egypt where others like him would go to nest and wait for their times to come. Phoenixes could live up to thirteen hundred years - most of them - and that was divided into about forty-two years for each human year. The process of dying was painful as any person would fear it would be, but none of them would have the pleasure of returning as he would. And to be replenished by the rain was a reward...but now having an ethereal but realistically beautiful face over him as he came back to himself was more than that, and even more when she saved him from those brutes.
He knew why they were here; they were once goons of the Chechen, blaming him for drugging customers with recreational drugs mixed with fear toxin, so after their boss was killed by Joker and the mob went down, they lost employment elsewhere and decided to take it out on him. He had to say he deserved it, but his other half said no. No, they're lowlifes who seek pleasure in harming others for themselves. You sought only in observing fear and understanding it. You're not to blame.
The angel above him was smiling down at him upon knowing he was going to be fine, and now that Jonathan thought back to that morning in her apartment, perhaps he should reconsider her offer in a "date". Well, not maybe a date, but a get-together. She had done nothing to deserve his distrust of her.
But then Sinéad was no longer looking at him. She looked up to where the back door was, and Jonathan followed her gaze. There stood Anna Ramirez, one of the sick former cops in the mob's pay and working now at this bar, standing there and watching them, knowing what had transpired. He automatically assumed she knew more than she let on.
So Sinéad's knife from her grandmother was a real one, though I forgot what the name of the real blade was. As quoted, it was the "perfect fantasy for an epic tale" - exactly what this story is becoming. :D
I had such fun writing Jonathan's transformation and rebirth. It was just symbolic in that his time was coming to move on mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually in the most unexpected ways imagined - and what made it better was that Sinéad herself had to be over him when he returned to being himself.