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(x)

5 years ago

Gotham City

"There's something I haven't shared with you."

"That's allowed you know. Like, you're not gonna get a demerit or a detention in therapy just because you didn't mention something."

"No, I know that. I just wasn't sure how to bring up..." Though she was a grown woman, suddenly she looked small and frail. "When I was seven, my family and I travelled to the coast. Even though the beach was a block away, the house had this beautiful sparkling pool. I was vacationing there with my aunt, my uncle, and my two-year-old cousin, and I was pushing her around in her stroller by the pool. For some reason, the only adult by the pool left, and it was just me and my cousin. I made a sharp turn, and one of the wheels of the stroller snapped. I tried to stop it, but the stroller began to tip forward right into the water."

"How did you feel?"

"What?"

"How did you feel when that happened?"

"My God, I was scared stiff. I remember using all my strength, which at seven couldn't have been that much, just to keep her from falling. I started screaming and shouting at the top of my lungs. Of course, no one was around. Then I just couldn't hold it any more. My arms gave out and she fell in. I watched her sink right down to the bottom of the pool."

"What did you do?"

"... I did nothing. I just screamed and stood there. Luckily, my aunt saw from the window what happened. She ran out to the pool. She dove into the water, pulled up my cousin. They were able to do CPR… They saved her life."

"Thank goodness she was okay."

"Yes, absolutely. They still joke about it to this day."

She looked at her overtop her glasses. "They joke about it?"

"Yes, my cousin will say to me 'well remember you did almost kill me once.'"

"That doesn't sound very funny."

"Well, they think it is."

"When they joke about that, how does it affect you?"

"I feel this gnawing sickness in my stomach. I do my best to laugh along and pretend it's not there."

"What's the gnawing sickness?"

"I think it's guilt."

"Guilt or shame?"

She said softly, "Both."

"Do you remember what thought you're left with after this memory plays in your head?"

"It's something like … 'I should have moved. I should have acted. I should have done -something- besides just stand there while my cousin was drowning.'"

"And now, today, you're running headfirst into the worst, most dangerous homes of Gotham trying to grab up every child you can to save them from a life that will suffocate and kill them… Do you see the connection?"

She shrugged. "Yes, of course I do. But what good does that do me?"

"It does you plenty. If you can see that you're recreating the most horrific, most painful memory of your childhood and trying desperately to give yourself the ending you always wanted."

"What ending is that?"

"I don't know. What ending did you want most?"

She seemed to sink down into her thoughts. After a moment she said, "That I would have acted. That I would have dove in after her and put my own life on the line." She ended with, "That I would have saved her myself."

(x)

Present Day

Wayne Manor

Bruce walked quickly but quietly down the staircase at Wayne Manor. He'd heard the doorbell, but when he looked down from outside the window, he hadn't recognized the person waiting outside the door.

The threats to himself and to those he cared for had been neutralized for the most part. Gallivan was dead. The Order of Saint Dumas had been all but completely dissolved. Even Silver, who in the end had chosen him over Gallivan, seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Bruce hoped she was alive. He hoped that she found herself in better circumstances than he'd left her.

Yet still, he found that every vehicle he didn't recognize, every suspicious circumstance, even every unknown face, was a question mark that he needed badly to become a certainty.

Downstairs, he overheard Alfred talking in an urgent tone, so he made himself close but invisible.

Not really invisible, of course. But he walked soundlessly down the remainder of the stairs and peered out from behind the adjoining wall without anyone noticing.

A woman, an …. adult, Bruce couldn't really pin her age, dressed conservatively in a jacket, blouse, and skirt blocked the doorway with her foot.

"I've come quite a ways to get here," she said. "I really need to talk to Bruce."

Alfred said, "I appreciate your dedication to the Waynes. Really, I do. But we are not in need of your services at this time."

She frowned. "Is Bruce … seeing someone else?"

"I assure you. The matter has already been addressed."

The woman paused, staying for longer than most did when faced with Alfred's cold stare. "I'm sure it is. It's just ... I made a promise to Martha-"

"Doctor, you are not the only one who's made promises. Now, since the matter is resolved and Bruce's health is in excellent condition, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Alfred leveled his gaze at her, but she didn't budge, forcing them into a standstill. If Bruce knew Alfred, his next step would be to provide her with an additional, more compelling reason to leave. He didn't give him the chance. Bruce asked loudly, "Alfred, who is this? I don't believe we've met."

Alfred flinched, surprised to see him only a few feet away from where he stood. He sent him a look, one that said 'you've got to learn to stop doing that'. He smoothly blocked Bruce's view of the woman and spoke over her, "This is no one that you need to concern yourself with, Master Bruce-"

"My name is Dr. Madeline Scott." She raised her voice. "I knew your mother. Very well."

Alfred turned half a face to her, his entire body bristled at her words and his glare dared her to speak just one word further.

Dare she did. "I saw her for counseling."

Alfred flared up, "Doctor, last I checked, neither of the Waynes are currently under your treatment." He whispered angrily. "Can't you see this young man has been through enough?"

Bruce asked, "You knew my mother?"

"Yes," Madeline said. "And I know if she were here today, she would want me to speak with you and share anything I could to try to help you."

Bruce weighed the advantages and disadvantages, the subtle messages and overt statements, adding and subtracting in his head, until he said, "Please come in. Make yourself comfortable. If you have time, I'd like to speak with you."

Dr. Scott stepped inside immediately, not waiting for anyone to change their mind. She took off her coat. "Thank you."

Bruce said, "Alfred, please have Dr. Scott meet with me upstairs in the study."

As Bruce made his way back up the stairs, Alfred reluctantly said, "Yes, Master Bruce. She'll join you presently."

Alfred took her coat, and when she handed it to him, he leaned in, "I can only imagine you mean well here, doctor. But if I find out you don't? Let's just say you'll have a lot more to worry about than a lengthy, exorbitant malpractice suit."

Madeline sucked in a breath, nodded, and said, "Understood."

Alfred straightened, brushed down the front of his vest, and said, "How do you take your tea then?"

She said, "Iced with lemon. Thank you."

Alfred brought her upstairs to meet with Bruce, and as he left to get the drinks, he found himself murmuring, "Should've known she'd be an iced tea. Little too much lemon. Little too much ice."