Chapter 5- Lost in Sorrow
A/N: I guess now this would be an alternate universe since Rachel died in "The Dark Knight. I'm sorry this part was so long in coming since I had other projects.
Now I said that my first night at Wayne Manor I felt lonely and my heart felt empty. I've also said that I don't cry that much either. Well, that night I did. In that huge tomb of a bedroom I stayed awake for hours just crying. I had never felt so lonely or hungry in my entire life. At this point I'd wished I'd eaten a hamburger. Never mind the fact that if I had it would be all over the Wayne Family rosebushes in about an hour.
I woke up bleary-eyed the next day around six in the morning. Try as I might I just couldn't sleep well. I pulled on the sweatshirt and jeans I had worn for the past few days and my necklace from my Indian grandmother. I slipped out of my room and made my way outside to watch the sun come up.
This was always done when I was little. My dad and me would watch the sun come up. The day wouldn't start until we had seen the sun come up. My father had done the same thing with my grandfather. It was a Hamilton family tradition. I was so intent on watching that I didn't hear anyone walk beside me until they spoke.
"Roberta?" A voice next to my ear asked, nearly causing me to lose my seat on the low brick wall.
I turned and saw Mr. Wayne standing there, a look of concern in his light green eyes. "I'm not doing anything wrong! I just wanted to see the sun," I said defensively. I don't know why I felt I had to explain it to him, but I did.
"I'm not upset. I'm just wondering what you're doing. I saw you leave the mansion this morning and I wanted to see where you went," Mr. Wayne said, sitting down next to me.
"I've been doing this for as long as I can remember. Me and my dad used to do this every morning on the reservation. We'd go to the cornfields and just watch the sun come up. My dad would then tell me stories about the Seneca people. My favorite was the one about the woman in the moon who sews and when she turns her back her dog next to her unravels all she has sewn," I said, forgetting that Mr. Wayne didn't like me to say that Patrick Hamilton was my father.
"Roberta, you can't go out like this without permission. This isn't the reservation where you knew everyone. Even though we live in the country part of Gotham crime still happens out here. I don't want to see you get hurt," Mr. Wayne said firmly.
I didn't really know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. I know Mr. Wayne wanted me to say something, but I'm not a conversationalist. Most people who know me know that small detail about me. Making me talk when I don't want to is like pulling my teeth out one by one.
"Roberta Wayne, I am talking to you," Mr. Wayne said sternly. I didn't know what he wanted me to say. I got the feeling that if I talked back I'd get in big trouble, but I couldn't think of anything to say without it sounding like I was talking back. At that moment I thought of my cell phone and decided to call my father. He would now what to do about this whole situation. This was becoming a nightmare and my dad might know what to do.
"What do you want me to say, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, finally asking the question that I was thinking. At this point I didn't care if it sounded rude. It was the truth.
"Roberta, you were wrong to leave the mansion. An apology might be good," Mr. Wayne said.
I was upset that he would try to make me apologize like I was three. Even my own father didn't do this. I stood up and walked away without saying anything. I didn't usually act this badly, but I didn't care. I just stormed off angrily and went to a secluded spot by myself.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Reader's point of view:
Bruce entered the dining room a couple of hours later, hoping Roberta had come in for breakfast at least. Bruce still hadn't a clue as to what to do with his daughter. Roberta apparently liked her mother, but Bruce was lost on how to deal with a moody teenage girl.
He knew that if she came back this time she would be fourteen with opinions all her own, but seeing it didn't make it any easier. Having his daughter call him Mr. Wayne was a low blow to him.
Bruce sighed deeply as he sat down, feeling a pounding headache in his temples. He jumped slightly as Rachel touched his hand gently. "Bruce, are you okay?" Rachel asked a look of concern in her dark eyes.
"Did Roberta come in here?" Bruce asked as Alfred brought in breakfast.
"Not yet. I know that you went outside when we saw her leave the house," Rachel said.
"She's angry with me. She told me that she has been watching the sun come up with the man who took her since she left us," Bruce said stiffly.
"Bruce, maybe he didn't know. If you were him wouldn't you have accepted her as yours?" Rachel asked.
"I don't think so. I would have done a background check before someone dumped a three-year-old on my doorstep," Bruce said, rubbing his chin.
"Bruce, not everyone is you. This man made an honest mistake. They really thought that Roberta didn't have parents. I can't fault them," Rachel said as Roberta came into the room.
Roberta's hair was a mess and she sat without looking at him. "Roberta, are you all right?" Rachel asked, leaning forward slightly. Roberta nodded wordlessly.
"Miss, are you hungry?" Alfred asked, putting a bowl of hot oatmeal in front of her.
"A little bit. At least I can actually eat oatmeal without getting sick. My dad says it's all in my head about getting sick, but I'm not sure I want to tempt it," Roberta said, unfolding a napkin slowly.
"Roberta, after we eat how'd you like to go shopping with me? We can buy you some new clothes," Rachel said, changing the subject before Bruce could say anything about Patrick Hamilton not being her father. Her calling another man "Dad" was a cheap shot to him.
"Are you sure? My mom says I'm the worst person to shop with. You should've seen Easter dresses when I was five. I don't like pink and a lot of dresses never hit me as overly beautiful," Roberta said.
"I'll risk it. We also are enrolling you in a private school so we need to go shopping for your school uniforms," Rachel said, smiling.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Roberta said, picking dully at her oatmeal.
A cell phone rang and Roberta fished it out of her pants pocket. She rolled her eyes. "Great. It's my annoying cousin, Jane," Roberta flipped open the phone. Bruce was in for a shock. Roberta started to talk in another language that he couldn't even begin to understand! The only thing he did understand was that she didn't sound happy.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Rachel's point of view:
"What do you want, Jane?" I asked sharply in Seneca.
"Your father called last night and told us what happened. I'm sorry, Cousin," Jane said.
"Thank you, but that still doesn't tell me why you're calling," I clipped my words short.
"Grandmother asked me to call. She wants to know if you're coming down for the corn harvest. The Three Sisters are close to ripe," Jane said.
I rolled my eyes annoyed and switched my answer to English for Mr. and Mrs. Wayne's benefit besides my cousin's. "Have I ever missed the harvest of the Three Sisters? They are always together and can never be separated," I said. The Three Sisters are the staples of food that the Seneca eat; corn, beans, and squash. To the Seneca they grow together and are picked together.
"Just checking. Your father said that you were upset and you probably won't," Jane said, switching to English.
"Not happening. I'd never miss anything as important as all that. Do I look that dumb to you?" I asked, not bothering to switch to English. I'd rather the Wayne's' not hear this particular conversation.
"No, not really. So how are you going to come?" Jane asked.
"Don't really know yet. You got any ideas that'd work?" I asked.
"Can't you hop on a train or bus?" Jane asked.
"I could, but I'm going to be dead on my feet from exhaustion by the time I get there. Grandmother will have a double conniption fit once she takes a good look at me," I said.
"Well, let's keep thinking about it. I'll call you later, Baby Cousin," Jane said, disconnecting the line.
"You're only two years older, Jane," I muttered in English under my breath as I snapped my phone lid closed and sat down in my chair.
"That was interesting," Mr. Wayne said, reminding me that he and his wife were in the same room.
"I guess. I wish my uncle had called and not my cousin," I said, tamping down my oatmeal with my spoon.
"I take it you don't like Jane," Mrs. Wayne said.
"I don't dislike her. She's just an annoying older cousin who doesn't know how to shut up. My favorite cousin is her little brother, Tommy. He's two and whenever I go to the reservation I baby-sit," I said, taking a miniscule bite of oatmeal.
"So what was she asking for, Roberta?" Mr. Wayne asked.
"Nothing important. Why do you think I talked in Seneca?" I asked, being vague with my answer.
"Either that or you didn't want me and your mother to know what this conversation was about," Mr. Wayne said, his voice one of false cheer.
"Boy, you catch on fast! You must have been talking to my dad. He always knows when I do something stupid. Which could be counted on one hand," I said, finishing the last bite of oatmeal.
Mr. Wayne's eyes got hard. "Take it easy, Bruce," I heard Mrs. Wayne say under her breath.
"How long did it take you to learn another language, Miss Roberta?" Alfred asked after a few minutes of silence.
"I don't really remember that much. My dad said I caught on quick though. By the time I was five I knew key phrases and enough to carry on a good conversation. And that's a good thing since my grandmother can't speak a word of English and we have to talk to her in the Seneca tongue or get a translator," I said, brushing a stray lock of dark hair out of my eyes.
My cell then rang again. "What now?" I looked at the window on my cell phone. "Great. It's Mom," I said, opening the cell phone.
"Hello, Mother," I said in a strained tone.
"Hello, Dear. How's it going?" Mom asked.
"Mom, do you know you squawk like a chicken when you talk?" I asked. Mrs. Wayne had this pained look on her face, but I turned my back ignoring her.
"Very funny. Jane just called," Mom said the high pitched breathiness out of her voice.
""Hmmm. What did she want?" I asked.
"She told me that you are coming down for the corn harvest," Mom said. I closed my eyes briefly and counted to ten.
"I'm thinking about it. It's just hard to think up a way where I can. Mom, do you think you and Daddy could-"I started to ask.
"Rachel," Mom said simply.
"Mom, I'm serious. I've never missed the corn harvest. You know that better than anyone," I whispered softly as I got up and went to an area where I knew I couldn't be overheard.
"Rachel, be fair about this. Bruce and Rachel Wayne are your parents," Mom said. Tears came to my eyes and suddenly I didn't care if I was seen crying or not.
"I don't care! I just want to come home, Mom. You and Dad are my parents too!" my voice rising so high I was going into hysterics.
Mr. Wayne stood up, a concerned look in his green eyes. "Rachel, we're sorry," Mom said, in an attempt to soothe.
"Sure. Everyone's always sorry. That's what everyone says, Mom. I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed and have Dad try to embarrass me with stories of me as a little girl in front of my friends," I said, my voice splintered like broken china as I disconnected the line.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I all but ran out of the dining room and up the stairs. I flung myself onto the window seat and cried for what seemed like hours.