Warning: language

PART 1A TEN: Life Expectancy

Elle

The life expectancy of someone living in the United States is about 78-point-something years. But what does that really mean? After all, plenty of people die young for a multitude of reasons, and at the same time, several of them exceed 78 years of age. I don't understand why we have to put a number statistic on how many years a person lives on average.

Not to mention, as I said before, living and existing are different. So maybe the life expectancy of 78 years is more like how many years you manage to exist. Otherwise, I suspect that the number would be much, much lower. Or perhaps it wouldn't exist, depending on how it was measured. You can truly live for a few years or months or days, but then just breathe and exist, only to go back to the true state of living. So it would be near impossible to measure that statistic.

And again, I ask, why do we bother having a number for that?

Because that's all it is. A number. It's not the definite number of years any individual will survive. The number of years a person lives is subject to change at any moment. Life is constantly changing, and so, obviously, can the number of years you will live.

I stopped living for a long time, after my family died. But now I'm learning to live again.

Sunday, August 23

It had been a week since the Batfamily and I had made up. I'd snuck out twice to train with Jason, but besides a little bit of protesting and disappointed stares, there was no real arguing. Dick had returned to Bludhaven, but he texted me sometimes. Tim and I tried to hang out more by playing video games or going to the arcade or library. Bruce even skipped out on work to bring Tim and I out to lunch once. I supposed that we were all getting used to me being part of the family. Or, almost.

My training with Jason was going well. I'd wanted to stay overnight at his apartment once, but I figured that I'd be in a lot of trouble with Bruce. When I wasn't practicing with Jason, I practiced on my own in my room. I was slowly but surely becoming better at fighting. It was exciting.

I was just about to go meet up with Jason when Bruce stopped me. I was worried that he was going to lecture me, once again, about the dangers of hanging out with Jason, but it was all for naught.

"Let's go to lunch," Bruce demanded – his way of asking, I supposed. He wasn't exactly the most emotional and heartfelt man in the world.

I fiddled with the bottom of my – Barbara's – shirt nervously. "I had plans," I replied.

Bruce fixed a stare on me. I had to fight the urge to look away.

"Cancel them," was all Bruce said before heading towards the exit.

I bit my lip before sending a hasty text to Jason. I followed Bruce to his car. Bruce drove us to a small, inexpensive diner. As we sat with our menus, I looked around the place appreciatively.

"I didn't know you knew what modest was," I teased.

Bruce grinned slightly. "I figured it would make you more comfortable."

I wanted to ask what Bruce wanted to talk to me about – because it was really obvious, judging by the place and the fact that Tim hadn't been invited – but he refused to say anything on the subject until we were halfway through our meal.

"Do you still want to go through with the adoption?" Bruce asked suddenly, completely off-topic.

I blinked. "Do you still want to adopt me?" I countered quietly. I put down my fork and looked down at my lap. Had he changed his mind? I wouldn't be surprised. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"That's not what I asked," Bruce said.

I shrugged indifferently. "If you don't want me, just say it," I told him softly, fighting back the tears. I'd known it was too good to be true, being adopted by one of my heroes. I should have never let my hopes up.

"Elle, no," Bruce said. He took my hand, prompting me to look up at him, watery eyes and all. "I do want you. I want to adopt you. But if you're not ready for this, you need to tell me now."

I pulled my hand away. "You're right. I'm not ready to be adopted." I took a breath. "But I still want you to adopt me." I shook my head. "But why would you? You know me better now than you did when you first met me. You know that I'm trouble. Why would you want to adopt me, of all people?"

"You're worried about being trouble after I've adopted Dick, Tim, and Jason?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Yeah."

"If I can handle them, then I can handle you," Bruce said. I grinned. "But you're wrong about one thing."

I tilted my head. "What?"

"I don't know you better now. At least not much." Bruce sighed. "And to be honest, I don't think any of us really do."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Yes you do. You know that I'm shy and on my own a lot. And that I like martial arts."

"But that's pretty much all we really know about you, Elle," Bruce said gently. "Why haven't you told us anything about yourself? Favorite color, favorite food, what you want as a career, what your family was like –"

"You never asked," I said abruptly, cutting off anything else he might say.

"I'm asking you now," Bruce said.

I hesitated before replying, "What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Anything at all. Just tell me one thing about yourself."

I thought for a few minutes as I ate my wrap. Bruce deserved more than just knowing my favorite color, but I was nowhere near ready to tell him about my family. I didn't want to say anything that was easy to say, but I didn't want to tell him something that was more or less a secret best kept that way.

I didn't say anything until Bruce had paid and we had returned to the car. Before he could start driving, I told him one thing about me.

"I don't know what to do, or who I want to be, after high school," I admitted. "I don't have any dreams, any ideas at all. When I was younger, I wanted to work behind the scenes of a Batman cartoon." I blushed as I said that, but I kept going. "I wasn't sure what exactly I wanted to do. Animator or screenwriter or editor, it didn't matter to me." I paused.

"What changed?" Bruce asked. I was glad he didn't make fun of me or thought I was weird or a creepy fan for wanting to work on cartoons that were based on him.

I shrugged. "I grew up. My family died. I lived in foster care. I realized that the likelihood of me ever getting into college was pretty near zero. So I let go of that dream."

"And now?"

"I don't know," I murmured. "I just don't know." I had so many more opportunities now than I'd had before. The entire world was open to me, but I was lost. I didn't know what to make of it all. I hadn't really thought about a career.

"Well, first thing's first," Bruce said, finally pulling out of the parking space. "You finish high school. You'll be attending Gotham Academy in September."

Great. Uniform.

"So where are we going now?" I asked, noticing that we weren't driving back to Wayne Manor.

"It's about time you got your own clothes," Bruce said. I smiled. "You haven't been to the mall yet, have you?" I shook my head. "Then buy whatever you want. Clothes, things to decorate your room, whatever you need."

I stared at Bruce, startled. "But that's too much."

"I'll pay for it," Bruce told me. He parked next to the mall and handed me a credit card despite my protests.

I grinned. Before I could think about it, I hugged Bruce. It was quick, but it startled both of us. I blushed bright red, still grinning.

"Thank you," I said.

"I'll meet you back here in three hours," Bruce said. "I have some business to attend to."

Right. Business.

The first thing I did was get the Gotham Academy uniform. Because Gotham Academy was a local private school, all of the stores sold their uniforms. After I'd received the uniform, I had some fun getting new clothes.

I got jeans, workout shorts, sweatpants, various shirts, lots of shoes, sweatshirts, pajamas, socks, and a jean jacket. It was only after some consideration that I bought some formal clothes – a dress, two pairs of slacks, and two nice shirts.

After that, I went to one of the other stores in the mall. I bought purple sheets, pillowcases, and blankets. I bought several books at the bookstore. At another store, I bought school supplies and a black-and-red backpack. At the last store I went to, I bought an iPod Touch and several CDs.

It was a miracle I could even carry everything. It was just a lot of putting bags within bags within bags. And pure willpower.

I had an hour to kill after all that. I was going to hang out in the food court, but when I passed the hairdresser, I went in. My hair was cut into a bob, with the front of my hair reaching my chin and the back of my hair reached the top of my neck.

I grabbed my bags and dragged myself out to the parking lot, where Bruce was waiting patiently. He helped me get everything into the car. He complimented me on my haircut.

The first thing I did when I got back to the Manor was put everything into my closet and dresser. I made my bed with my new covers and pillowcases. My bookshelf now had one shelf of library books and one shelf of books that I owned, plus CDs on the top of it.

Things were starting to look up. Again.

Monday, August 24

I awoke to my phone beeping to tell me I had a text message. At least it was better than waking up from a nightmare. I reached over and squinted at the sudden light from my phone.

JASON: Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We got shit to do.

I sighed, still trying to wake up. It was four in the morning. I usually didn't wake up until six or seven.

ELLE: Sleeping. Try again later.

JASON: Park. Now.

ELLE: Why?

Jason never answered my text. Groaning, I got up. I skipped my morning routine and shower, dressed in the first thing I could find, left a note in the kitchen for Alfred to see, then left.

What was so important that Jason had to meet up with me at four – now four-thirty – in the morning?

Jason must have gotten impatient, because before I was even a block into Gotham City, he came speeding around the corner on his motorcycle. I put on my helmet, which he handed to me, and climbed on.

"What do you even want?" I complained, still half-asleep.

Jason didn't even look at me. "Nice hair."

When we'd arrived at the park, we did our normal run around the outside edge. We also sparred, but Jason didn't hold back as much. After a few hours of this, and I was getting hungry, I finally had to stop for a break.

"Why did you want to meet now? This early?" I asked, truly puzzled.

"Why not?" Jason countered. He observed my exhausted form. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?" I shook my head. "Right. Breakfast. Let's go."

Breakfast was sharing a box of Dunkin Donuts munchkins and orange juice. We sat at the park bench after returning from getting out food, eating in silence. And then it hit me. I turned to Jason, a teasing grin on my face.

"You missed me," I declared. Jason snorted and rolled his eyes. "You wanted to spend time with me."

"So what?" Jason snapped.

I shrugged. "If you wanted to hang out, you could've just said so."

Jason didn't say anything. But for once, we spent most of our time together not practicing my fighting moves. We went to a movie, making fun of it the entire time and annoying the other viewers. We ate hotdogs for lunch and then went back to the park. We just walked around this time, talking. It felt nice. I finally had a friend. And I liked to think that he thought of me the same way.

I received texts throughout the day from Tim, asking where I was and when I would be home. I ignored the word 'home,' for I still thought of it as Wayne Manor; my real home was gone. I simply shot back quick texts saying that I was okay and that I was safe. Bruce tried calling me a few times, but I ignored him. I was enjoying my day with Jason, and nothing would stop that.

In mid-afternoon, Jason offered to teach me how to shoot a gun. I only hesitated for a half a second – guns were dangerous, after all – but I was all too eager to learn. Jason took me to a place where no one was around. He set up targets and showed me how to hold and aim the gun.

I was really bad at it.

I missed every shot except one:

"Is that the best you got, Cougar?" Jason taunted. "Anyone can shoot a gun. You're just bad at it."

A few shots later, I finally hit one of the targets. Barely, but I'd hit it.

"Good job, kid, you got one," Jason commented sarcastically.

I smirked. "Thanks. I was pretending it was your face."

Jason chuckled. "You've got spunk, kid."

I wished he'd stop calling me kid. He was only a couple of years older than me.

We went back to his place, watched crap television, and ate cold pizza. Jason basically asked me to stay the night, in his own way:

"It's a while back to the manor if you're walking, and I'm almost out of gas. Feel free to crash here. Just don't touch my shit."

I decided to stay overnight. Jason went out as Red Hood, leaving me in his apartment. But I was glad that he even let me stay there. I texted Tim my whereabouts, then settled in to sleep.