"Something wrong, sir?" The butler asked.
"Um, no…I guess. Have you seen Maddie?" Tim asked, feeling a little shaky. Why had she run off like that? He beat himself mentally for pushing her too far.
"I'm afraid not." Alfred quirked an eyebrow, "Did she leave you with lipstick smears on purpose?"
Tim's eyes widened and he slid to the mirror in the hallway, scanning his face. There was nothing there. "Evil butler" Tim muttered.
Tim walked through the hall and glanced at the front door. Noticing water on the floor he opened it, letting the rain in. There was someone sitting in the middle of the road about half a mile away. He recognized her purple shirt.
Tim ran out, sprinting towards her in the rain. He hadn't even broken a sweat once he reached her, all his training made sure of that, but not all the training in the world could have prepared him for the girl that he loved crying in the rain. She looked lost, gone, almost empty. Her body was shaking with sobs and the cold. She was soaking wet sitting in a puddle on the blacktop clutching to herself as if she were dying.
"Maddie" he said quietly, kneeling down to sit next to her in the rain.
I heard him running out, I knew it was him. Who else would it be? The puddles splashing under his feet and his breathing as he stood above me in the rain. It had, by now, smeared all my makeup across my face that I'd spent over an hour perfecting. I couldn't stop the tears. I had held them in for years and they were all just crushing down on me.
He said my name. When he knelt down next to me it only made it worse. I had finally found somebody that I loved enough to get close to and I couldn't give him what we both wanted…
I felt his hand move to touch my face and I flinched away. The thoughts of my father were too prominent right now and it felt like I was being burned. This happened every once in awhile. I had emotional breakdowns. That was also why I had never had serious boyfriends. They ended up freaking out and getting as far away from me as they could once they found out what had happened to me.
He pulled back quickly and I wished I hadn't pulled away. I wanted him to touch me, to hold me, to love me. But I didn't want to lose him. The closer we got, the harder it would be to let him go once I told him. I wasn't ready to let him go yet. He'd leave in an instant once I told him. It didn't help that Robin had been the one to catch my father.
I tried to look at him, tried to gain the courage to reach out and touch him.
"Please" he said. And I watched as he hesitantly reached out to hold my chin, making me look at him. A gutsy move for a shy boy. "You can tell me anything"
"I…" tears fell, and I cried some more, loving his touch, not wanting it to leave. As soon as I told him it would be gone.
"I don't want you to leave me" I choked out, my eyes burning from crying.
"What?" He lifted his other hand and clasped my face in between them, "Listen to me" he said firmly, and "I will never, ever leave you. Understand? No matter what you tell me"
I wanted to believe him.
"Maddie. I promise. I promise" he said, rain leaking onto his face, "Please tell me"
My tears stopped, but I wasn't ready to tell him, to let him go. He'd never touch me again, kiss me again, look at me again the same. I slowly pushed some wet hair from his forehead. My hand dropped like dead weight into the water and I gave in.
"My…my name's not Zwinger" I said through the rain, not able to look at him. "It—It's Dutch. Maddeline Dutch"
His eyes froze and his hands dropped from my face in absolute shock. My heart broke in that instant. My arms came up and wrapped around my body. I knew it. I thought that he would be different, that he wouldn't care, that he would love me anyway. I was wrong, like I always was.
"You mean, like Jake Dutch?" he asked.
I nodded, looking away, ashamed.
"You…you're his daughter. The youngest?" he asked, his eyes glazing over in horror as he remembered the night he'd taken my father into custody.
A scream echoed through the night and the ten year-old Robin turned towards the sound. It was coming from an apartment near Second Street. Robin often patrolled the Narrows. He usually saved people from muggings or an occasional rape. Murder wasn't usually in the picture. Another scream came and tore through his heart; both of them had been women. And they were both terrified.
He sent a hook towards the apartment and flew through the night. As he flew closer to the apartment he heard cussing and struggles, then a gunshot. A scream, louder, then cut off with a loud smash. Then grunting. Crying.
Robin tried to glide faster, but the rope and wind would only take him so fast and the wind was not on his side tonight. He crashed through the window and stepped back in surprise as he saw the scene in front of him.
Three women and a man. No, two women, a man, and a girl. The oldest was cowering in the corner. The other was on the floor, her panty-hose ripped off and her skirt yanked up, a gunshot in her chest. The youngest was maybe nine years old and naked on the kitchen table, passed out.
The man whipped around, zipping up his pants and moved to shove the girl off the table and onto the floor. Anger and disgust flooded through Robin's body and he attacked the man, sending him sprawling on the floor. The man reached for the gun on the counter but Robin threw it out the window before the man could reach it.
He attacked, catching Robin off guard, shoving him into the wall with a butcher knife. Robin ducked before the man could stab him and somersaulted away, then turned and quickly clasped the man's hands together with handcuffs. The man yelled and cursed trying to get lose, but Robin smacked him across the face and he stayed silent.
Robin dropped the man on the floor, disgusted. He ignored the woman in the corner, she was fine, unharmed. The other one was already dead, her eyes glazed over in silence. He rushed to youngest, first checking for a pulse. It was faint and erratic, but it was there. He ripped off his cape and wrapped it around her, trying to wake her up.
"Miss?" he said, praying she'd wake up, "Hello?"
She stirred and looked up at him with chocolate, blurred eyes.
"Are you okay?" was all he could manage. How could he ask such a question? The girl had been beaten and raped. What was he thinking? Is she okay?
"Jake" the woman in the corner said, catching the young hero off-guard. She was looking at the man on the floor, "Why?" she sobbed. "Why would you do this? To your own family?"