Warnings: language

Part 1B EIGHT: Double Life

Elle

Everyone lives, at the very least, a double life, even if they don't realize it. After all, it's probably not likely that you act the exact same way you do at home as you do at school or at work. You adapt your personality and your behavior so that it blends in with your surroundings, or perhaps so that it meets someone else's expectations.

At home, you're probably expected to be respectful to your parents and any siblings you may have. You might have some rebellious streaks here and there, but in the end, you obey to avoid punishment. At school, you might swear a bit more than you do at home, or perhaps voice your more snarky comments.

Of course, you might not. But it's highly likely that you do, in some fashion, live a double life.

For people like Bruce Wayne, it's more obvious – if you know who he is at night, that is. One life, he's a rich playboy – in public, that is. Otherwise, he's a bit gruffer, more serious, perhaps overprotective of innocents.

And then there's me. I'm a different person around Jason – a bit more sarcastic, maybe a bit more violent – than I am around the residents of Wayne Manor – quiet, more or less obedient. With Nico, I have to be submissive so that he's happy. Because that's one thing that doesn't change about me, no matter which life I'm living. I want others to be happy. I want others to be proud of me.

Tuesday, October 20

I woke up to a pounding headache. I realized with a start that I was still lying on the floor. I was covered in bruises. It was painful to move even the slightest bit. Vomit was beside me and on me. It had been luck that I'd been curled up on my side. I shut my eyes against the stupid sunlight. How much did I drink last night?

I managed to make my way to the kitchen, where Nico was also hung-over. He handed me aspirin and a glass of water. I took them graciously. We didn't talk about last night.

There was no way I was going to school that day, and neither was Nico. Nico wanted to crash and sleep off the hangover but I wanted to get some long-sleeve shirts to cover up the bruises. Nico was in a good mood and gave me his jacket to wear while walking to the store; he stayed behind and, assumedly, slept the day away.

I checked my phone. I had a bunch of messages and missed calls from Dick, Bruce, Tim, even Jason. I sent out a mass text, simply saying that I was okay. I immediately got replies from all of them.

DICK: Where are you? Everyone's worried about you. What happened?

I ignored his text. I didn't feel like getting interrogated.

BRUCE: We'll talk about this later.

By 'this,' I assumed Bruce meant the whole sneaking out thing. I wasn't looking forward to that.

JASON: What the fuck was last night about?

I remembered calling him, but I couldn't remember exactly what I'd said. Oh, well. Not worth getting into a conversation about.

TIM: Are you skipping?

I bit my lip. I hesitantly typed out a reply, despite knowing Nico wouldn't like it.

ELLE: Yes. So?

TIM: You sure you're okay?

ELLE: Yes.

TIM: Where are you? Are we good now?

I stopped replying. Shouldn't Tim be paying attention in class? Although I was a being a hypocrite, I just couldn't imagine Tim texting during class.

I checked my purse. I had some money left over from when Bruce last gave some to me. I used it to buy McDonalds and then I headed over to the store. I took my time, window-shopping on the way. After all, I was wearing Nico's jacket, so it wasn't as if anyone could see the bruises. Also, the sun wasn't exactly helping my hangover.

I finally made it to the store. I took my time, looking at every little thing even though I knew exactly what I'd come for. By the time I'd picked out a couple of long-sleeved shirts that I could afford, school was out. And, of course, I just happened to bump into Jasmine.

"Hey," she said to me. I turned and started walking away. If she didn't have anything nice to say about my boyfriend, then she could just leave me alone. Unfortunately, my attitude didn't deter her. She ran and caught up to me. "No, you have to listen to me."

"Why?" I snapped. "Because you want your boyfriend back?"

Jasmine frowned, concern and annoyance in her eyes. "No. Because I want to help you. Get out of that relationship."

"Or what?"

"Or … or I'll call the police," Jasmine stammered. I rolled my eyes.

"No you won't," I said. "Because then he might get mad. And we both know what happens when he gets mad." I added the last part quietly, but Jasmine still heard me.

"You think you love him. I get it. I really do." Jasmine looked me in the eye. I found it hard to look away. "But it's not okay. Please, please just leave him before it gets worse."

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I didn't know what to do. So I did what I did best. I stormed off. Jasmine didn't follow this time.

I didn't want to go back to the Wayne Manor, nor did I want to go back to Nico's apartment. So I went to the only other place there was. Jason's apartment. Luckily, he was there. And he was not happy.

"Answer your fucking texts!" was the first thing shouted at me when I entered using the spare key. I winced at the volume.

"Can you please not," I pleaded quietly, placing my bag of shirts and my purse aside.

"What? Yell?" Jason only shouted louder. "No. I think I'll yell even louder because your stupid-ass hung-over mind deserves the pain! Where the fuck were you!"

I flinched when he called me stupid. Yet another person said that about me. It was definitely true, though. It had to stop hurting sometime.

"With a friend," I said.

"I knew that," Jason said, annoyed. "But who?" I shrugged. Jason sighed angrily. I tensed involuntarily. No, I had to calm down. He wasn't going to hurt me. "Whose jacket is that?" Jason demanded. "It's not yours."

I shuffled my feet anxiously. "No one's. It's no one's." A bad lie and we both knew it.

"No. You don't get to say that." Jason pointed an accusing finger at me. I flinched again, my heartbeat increasing speed. I tried to calm myself down. Jason used to train with Bruce. He probably saw every little thing I did. He could probably see how anxious and scared and angry I was with every move. I had to be careful.

"First, you drunk-dial me in the middle of the night and start spewing some random shit."

My stomach twisted. This wasn't good.

"Then you show up here, wearing some guy's jacket."

That could be explained away, I told myself pitifully. Easily. Maybe.

"And you keep flinching like I'm going to hit you –" Jason trailed off. His rage turned into understanding but disbelief. "Like I'm going to hit you," he repeated lowly, angrily.

"You're overreacting," I said pathetically. "It's just the hangover."

Jason nodded slowly. "Maybe."

And then he took a few angry steps towards me, fury on his face, hand raised. I reacted on instinct, backed up against the wall, shaking, eyes shut, putting my arms in front of my face and bending over slightly to protect my stomach.

When no hit came, I slowly opened my eyes and straightened up. But I did not relax in the slightest. I was ready to run.

Jason looked furious, but it looked like he was covering up horror. I swallowed thickly.

"Who is it," Jason growled quietly.

I shook my head. "I don't –"

"Tell me who the fucker is!" Jason shouted. I flinched. Again.

"No one!" I cried.

Jason snatched one of my arms. Terrified, I tried to rip my arm away. Jason didn't let me. He pulled down my sleeve, revealing the bruises. His eyes narrowed.

"Is it a boyfriend?" he asked. "It has to be because that jacket isn't the Pretender's style at all. It's not Dick's, either." He didn't mention Bruce. But he didn't have to.

"Yes," I admitted quietly, barely above a whisper.

Jason let go of my arm. "Who is he? Who is he so that I can kill his sorry ass!"

I shrugged again. I wouldn't say anything. I'd already said too much. I hoped Nico didn't hear about this, or else he'd get mad. Why was I so stupid?

Jason huffed. "Break up with that son of a bitch," he ordered me. I winced, still shaking.

"Why?" I asked.

Bad question. "Why? Are you seriously asking me that?" Jason paced the room, still talking. "How long has he been hitting you so that you don't even realize how stupid you sound." He stopped pacing and shook his head. "'Why.' Why would you break up with the fucker who's abusing you." I winced at the term. It wasn't abuse. It wasn't. Nico loved me. "Hmm … I wonder why!"

"He loves me," I murmured, lowering my gaze.

Jason stared at me incredulously. "Are you shitting me?" He walked back over to me. "Kid, abuse is abuse. It's not okay, no matter what anyone says, especially your so-called boyfriend."

"You don't know him," I argued quietly, starting to cry. "And you can't tell me what to do."

"But he can?"

"He loves me," I repeated through the tears. I grabbed my purse and my bag. I left the apartment. Jason didn't follow. A part of me wished that someone would follow me whenever I stormed off. A part of me was glad. A part of me just wanted to curl up and bawl my eyes out. So that was what I planned to do.

Bruce met me right outside the manor. "We have to talk about what happened," he told me in his Batman voice.

I shouldered past him, still upset. I just wanted to go to my room. And maybe pass out. I hadn't had anything to eat beside McDonald's around 11-ish, and the aspirin had long since worn off.

"Elle," Bruce cut me off before I could get to the stairs. When he saw my tired and tear-stained face, he faltered. When he spoke next, he was more Bruce Wayne, adopted father of three-almost-four, than Batman, the dark knight. "First, you snuck out of the house. Then, Tim tells me you skipped school. And I got a call from the school saying that your grades are slipping and that you're not paying attention in class." I refused to meet his eye. "If something is going on, you can tell me."

I shrugged. "It's nothing," I lied.

Bruce didn't believe me but let it go. Why oh why did everyone let it go? Why did I want them to know? Why did I care? "Okay, but if you need to talk to someone …"

I nodded and shot a weak smile at him. I hurried up to my room. Painfully.

And cried.

It seemed that I did that a lot lately.