Bruce Wayne was cursing himself for many reasons, but one in particular. Why didn't he just let Rachel take care of this? The whole car ride to the mall was endured in awkward silence- at least on his part. He had no way of knowing if the girl in the passenger seat beside him was uncomfortable. He didn't know her at all.

And yet he was now all she had.

Bruce pulled to a stop near the front entrance of the bustling building. A blonde girl who had been waiting on one of the benches by the large fountain centerpiece of the area jumped up and walked about half way toward Bruce's car. His passenger grabbed her small purse and swung open her door. On impulse, before she could meet up with her friend, Bruce rolled down the window and called out to her.

"Rebecca!"

The girl in question glanced over her shoulder and sent him the same blank stare. She trudged back over to him and he handed her a gold card. She took one look at it and made to return it.

"I've got the insurance money," she refuted dryly yet politely. Bruce shook his head, "Whatever that doesn't cover, I will."

He could tell his charge wanted to smile, but seemed to be unable to. She merely nodded her thanks and rejoined the blonde friend whose name she indeed mentioned but Bruce naturally forgot- Maggie or something. He waited in his parked car until his niece and the other girl disappeared through the automatic doors.

"June wanted to go with us. So did Nat. I'm not sure about June, but I know Nat just wanted to see your uncle," Marissa Weston chatted to her unusually quiet friend. Rebecca nodded and mumbled, "How'd you get rid of them?"

"I told them my dad was taking us. Hey, do you want to eat lunch first or after we're done?"

Rebecca shrugged. Marissa frowned, but said nothing else on the matter of food. She linked her arm through Rebecca's and guided her in the direction of the first store.

"You probably need some nicer clothes too. Especially living with him. Ooh, try this one first…ok and this one…you know what, let me try that dress on when you're done."

Rebecca allowed Marissa to pile the clothing items into her arms before entering the changing room. She carelessly dumped the pieces on the floor under the full length mirror and blindly grabbed a red dress – the one Marissa was also in love with.

"You got it on?" Marissa shouted a few minutes later, "I wanna see it!"

"Kay, hang on," Rebecca answered before checking herself out in the mirror. In doing so, she realized her mistake. Everything about her and being in the dress, along with the shoes Marissa had slipped under the door and her poker straight brown hair pulled over one shoulder, she was a sixteen year old version of her mother.

She quickly redressed and pushed the door open. Marissa blinked a few times, surprised to see her in the clothes she had already been wearing. "Aren't you…"

Rebecca shook her head, "Just pick everything. I'm not trying on anything. We're the same size if you need to see stuff on."

Marissa nodded sadly and carefully went through the pile of clothes, leaving behind whatever she couldn't imagine Rebecca ever wearing. Waiting in the checkout line with Marissa talking unintentionally to herself, Rebecca began to realize why her mother's friends were having a hard time looking at her.

Whoever thought of the tradition to bring food to people suffering from a loss was going to be punched in the face. Bruce's late sister and brother in law were too popular for their own good. Rebecca wasn't eating and Alfred refused to cook until all of the lasagna and bunt cakes were eaten. Bruce had half a mind to send the still growing buffet of empathy food to Ethiopia. Then emaciation wouldn't be the problem.

Rebecca had returned to the manor late that night. Alfred had sent out to pick her up and bring her numerous bags up to her room. Bruce only looked away when the older man sent a 'get off your ass and help' glare. Of course, Rebecca had been of limited assistance herself. She took only what she felt like carrying and stayed in her new room.

"I realize how difficult this must be for you," Alfred began in a somewhat sardonic tone as he took a seat at the dinner table in front of Bruce, "But you of all people should understand what she's experiencing. As her only living relative, she needs you."

Bruce nodded vacantly as he picked at one of the bowls of pasta that one of his sister's friends left. Alfred sighed and added quietly yet loud enough for him to hear, "And you need her more than you think."

Later on after the men ate, Alfred went to check on Rebecca. Bruce was not surprised that she hadn't cried herself to sleep. If she was anything like her mother or even him, she would deal with her grief by detaching herself from the world and voiding herself of any emotions. The one nagging voice in his mind was that one day, every pent up feeling she had concerning the deaths of her parents and brother would spill out at once.

That voice was another reason Bruce had been beating himself up. That voice, named Rachel Dawes, seemed more concerned about his niece than he was.

Rachel knew Rebecca Carlson better after one week than her own uncle and godfather did in sixteen years.

But Rachel had only met the zombie named Rebecca Carlson. Bruce knew the girl in the school picture currently in his hands. This girl was genuinely smiling, glowing, and had the same lively if not mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes that her mother had.

Bruce set the framed picture face down on his desk. This girl was his sister, Isabel Wayne, as a high school junior with Jake Carlson's eyes. Even the sweet, bundle of energy int he wooden frame brought a painful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn't yet been able to do so, but he knew looking into the eyes of the now half dead girl would be even more heartbreaking.

She was sitting, invisible, at their wedding. Twelve year old miniatures of Bruce Wayne and Rachel Dawes were sitting in the same row as she was with Rachel sitting in between uncle and niece. Rachel was beaming at the proud looking groom and the veiled bride while Bruce was slouched in his seat, arms folded, pouting with a furrowed brow and angry eyes.

The groom lifted his bride's veil as they were announced husband and wife. Rebecca could feel eyes boring into her and looked to her left where Bruce and Rachel were sitting. Rachel was still smiling at the couple, but Bruce was now glaring spitefully at his future goddaughter.

Suddenly, he was the twenty nine year old Bruce Wayne Rebecca had grown to know. Looking back up at the altar, Jake Carlson and Isabel Wayne were staring down at her with sad smiles. Jake waved somberly while Isabel blew a kiss. Then they were engulfed in orange and yellow flames.

Rebecca shot out of her seat. As quickly as if had appeared, the fire was gone. Everyone in the church but Bruce was gone. She glanced back to where he was still seated. If possible, his glare intensified. He looked downright murderous. He morphed into a dark figure, which then flew at her.

Rebecca jolted awake, but remained lying down in the unnecessarily large bed. Blinking quickly, she pushed away the blanket that had been draped over her and moved to a sitting position with her feet on the floor.

There, directly across from her, taunting her on her desk was her parents' wedding photo. She let her eyes adjust to the darkness until she could see the picture more clearly. The happiness that used to come from the image of the newlyweds was replaced in her mind by the same fire in her dream.

The photograph was on the floor, face down before she reentered a dreamless sleep.

For those of you who've read my other story, this will be going in a very different direction. I know it may seem angsty at first, but just stick with it.