Chapter 10- A Forced Promise
After dropping Julie off at my uncle's house we went back to Grandmother's. The air was cold and smelled like snow, but I knew it was too early for it to happen. The cold air felt good and I took a deep breath of the woodsy cold air.
"Roberta, is it always this cold at night?" Mrs. Wayne asked.
"Only this time of night it is. Even in the summer it feels cool at night, "I said as I opened the heavy oak door to my grandfather's house.
"We are not finished talking, Roberta," Mr. Wayne said in a serious no-nonsense voice. I still couldn't figure out what to think about this man who was my father and at the same time wasn't my father.
"I know. I just didn't want my baby cousin to hear what we were talking about. She might figure out that you're Batman. I have decided I owe you my silence on that part," I said, sitting down on backless benches my grandfather had built.
"And thank you for that, Robbie, but that's not what I wanted to discuss with you. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was to run away? I have cleaned up a lot of Gotham City, but there are still criminals that would harm you. The criminals would not think twice about harming you," Mr. Wayne said, touching my hair with his fingers and stroking gently.
"I didn't think about that. I was just upset and then finding out your secret I thought I could just slip away as easily as I arrived," I said in a small voice.
Mr. Wayne then slipped his arms around my shoulders and pulled my face into his chest. "Roberta, that won't happen. If you try to run away again I will stop you. I want to be able to not worry about you, but I want your promise that you won't try to run again," Mr. Wayne said firmly.
I couldn't believe he was forcing this promise out of me, but I figured I had no choice. I also figured that my dad would force the same kind of promise too so any way I sliced it I was being forced to live with my real mother and father.
"All right. I promise I won't run away again," I said grudgingly.
"Good girl. I'm not heartless as you seem to think I am. I'm just concerned about you. I don't want to have to lock your windows and doors at night just to keep you safe," Mr. Wayne said, kissing my head gently.
"I never said you were heartless, Mr. Wayne. Bloodthirsty, maybe, but never heartless," I said without thinking.
"No. I'm not that either," Mr. Wayne said.
"What about your funny routine of 'Good Cop, Bad Cop?'" I asked.
"That? I only did that one time. I had the approval of the police to do that and I was saving your mother so it was okay," Mr. Wayne said, his fingers gently probing my head making me sleepy.
"I can't believe that the police actually let you do that. My own father would never dream of doing what you do," I muttered under my breath.
"I'm not Dr. Hamilton and he's not your father," Mr. Wayne said, apparently having the sensitive ears of a bat.
"He's a father to me. He took care of me when you couldn't and I'm going to bed," I said, deciding I'd had enough of this conversation. I was still tired and achy and 6:00 in the morning was going to come pretty fast. I couldn't stay up all night talking to all four sets of parents, real or imagined.
I went to the stairs that led up to the second floor. My grandparents slept in a small room off the kitchen/dining room and when they had visitors we always slept up in the loft which my grandfather had partitioned into five separate bedrooms. But first things first. I wanted and needed a bath.
Working in the cornfields all day left me with quite a pungent aroma and I knew I could never sleep if I smelled like corn, grass, and sweat. I made my way to the bathroom and turned the hot water on, feeling it run over my fingers before I put some lavender bath crystals in the tub to make it like it was a mineral bath.
I slithered down into the tub the water coming up to my neck and it feeling like silk. Lavender always soothed tired achy muscles and tonight was no exception. I soaked for a good thirty minutes before I got out and slipped into my plaid flannel nightshirt and pants.
I stumbled to my room and slipped into my bed. Now I know that braided leather is not very comfortable, but when you are tired it feels like the biggest feather mattress and I felt myself fall asleep almost immediately.
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Reader's POV:
Bruce looked up as Dr. Hamilton, his wife, and parents came into the house. Hamilton looked around. "Where's Rachel?" He asked. It took a minute for Bruce to remember that he was referring to Roberta. It was going to be difficult when his daughter had gone by the same name as her mother.
"Bed. She killed the conversation long before I was done," Bruce said wearily.
"She does that a lot. She doesn't really like to talk that much and would prefer if people don't try to make her," Hamilton said as they all sat at the scarred oak table.
"She told me that you would say that," Bruce said dryly.
"I would suggest you listen to her, Wayne. You may have given her life, but I was the one who has raised her for a good majority of it. You remember the three-year-old. I know the fourteen-year-old she is now. I'd even go as far as to say that I know my daughter better than you can possibly imagine," Hamilton said, his eyes hard.
"You didn't see Master Wayne when he was fourteen. Miss Roberta is, in many ways, like him, Dr. Hamilton. I should know. I raised him after his parents were murdered," Alfred jumped into the conversation.
The conversation would have continued, but Bruce noticed his daughter as she stood on the landing that led upstairs. She looked bleary-eyed and her hair was unbraided and looked like a cloak. She also wore red flannel pajamas that looked like they had been bought at a thrift store.
"Daddy, do you have any Tylenol? Anything for achy legs?" Roberta asked, looking at Dr. Hamilton.
"Yeah in my bag," Dr. Hamilton said, going to a small doctor's bag. He set it on the table and removed the stethoscope, a syringe, and a small hammer.
"Good thing we don't use the False-Face committees any more," Roberta said as Hamilton gave her two pills and a glass of water.
"Those haven't been used here since the 1700s and this part of the tribe converted under the Christian missionaries anyway," Hamilton said as Roberta swallowed the pills and drank the glass of water in one gulp.
"I know. I was just saying I was glad we don't use them since medicine men and all that is too much," Roberta said with a small smile.
"Not that other parts of the tribes don't use medicine men. I've tangled with them because I'm half-Indian and I know the White man's medicine," Hamilton said.
Bruce watched as his daughter sat down next to Dr. Hamilton's wife, rubbing her temples with her hand. "Are you all right?" Mrs. Hamilton asked.
"Achy and sore, Mom. I'll live though. I have to if I'm going to be any good out there in the cornfield. I wish you could come with us," Roberta said hopefully.
"I really can't, Rachel. Remember I'm helping your grandmother and the elderly women of the tribe make green cornbread tomorrow," Mrs. Hamilton said, taking Roberta's hand in hers and rubbing it gently.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Too bad we only eat that at harvest," Roberta said with a shamed look on her face.
"Well, if we ate it at other times then it wouldn't be special, would it?" Dr. Hamilton said.
"Dad, you are never wrong," Roberta said dryly.
"It's a gift. All fathers have it," Dr. Hamilton said with a huge grin.
Dr. Hamilton's father also grinned at that one. "You know, I remember you getting mad at me when I used to say that, Patrick," Bruce had to turn his head at that one. The banter in this family was amusing to say the least, but he wouldn't let his daughter see how funny he thought it was. He was planning to take her home as soon as this harvest of hers was done. He didn't know if he'd allow Roberta to see these people again or not.
"Really, Grandpa?" Roberta asked, playing with a strand of her dark hair.
"Yep. When your father was your age he treated responsibility like it was the plague. I wore out quite a few belts on his and Peter's backsides," Mr. Hamilton said. Bruce felt himself bristle. People seemed to like referring to Dr. Hamilton as Roberta's father. It took a lot of willpower not to lash out at that.
"Really? Dad, you are such a fraud! After all the times you made me learn math and all that during my summer breaks I can't believe it!" Roberta said, rolling her eyes.
"There's no law that says you can't learn during summer. So forget that one," Dr. Hamilton said wryly.
"You're still a fraud, Daddy. After the headaches you gave Grandpa, maybe you shouldn't teach me any more math during the summer," Roberta said, giggling.
"Nice try, Shorty. I'm looking into the hospitals around Gotham. I'm going to call on you every night to make sure you are keeping up with that fancy-school education that Wayne is giving you," Dr. Hamilton said.
What do you mean you are looking into the hospitals around Gotham?" Roberta asked, voicing Bruce's concerns.
"We-your mother and I- have been talking. We kind of figured you'd like to have us around and since you are relocating to Gotham we have decided to join you," Dr. Hamilton said. Roberta squealed and wrapped her arms tightly around Dr. Hamilton's waist.
"Are you really?" Roberta asked, her green eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.
"If I can find a hospital. There's like a million hospitals in Gotham. I'm leaning towards the Narrows district. That place doesn't have enough doctors and the poorest live there. We also need to find an apartment that's close to where you live," Dr. Hamilton said, scrubbing his face with his hands.
"Dad, are you sure? It's the city and you hate the city even more than I do," Roberta said hesitantly.
"I'm sure. I hate the idea of you fending for yourself in Gotham without me and your mother with you," Dr. Hamilton said, taking Roberta in his arms and hugging her tightly.
"We got the Batman to look out for me," Roberta said, her green eyes teasing Bruce as she looked at him.
"I don't know. You know how I feel about vigilantes, Rachel," Dr. Hamilton said, his face hard.
"I know, I know. You don't like the idea that someone would take the law into their own hands. But, Dad, what if the system in Gotham City was broken before Batman came?" Roberta asked. Bruce felt a measure of pride in his chest. Roberta was sticking up for him!
"No excuse. No one has the right to be a vigilante no matter how corrupt the law is," Dr. Hamilton said, rubbing Roberta's back gently.
"I guess. Dad, I'm really tired now. Can I go to bed now?" Roberta said, looking up at Dr. Hamilton.
"I guess so. Six O' clock is going to come awful quick," Dr. Hamilton said, kissing Roberta gently on her right eyebrow.
"Night, everyone," Roberta said as she slowly made her way upstairs
"I would prefer if you didn't kiss my daughter," Bruce said as soon as she was out of earshot.
"You might want to tell her that also, Wayne. Tomorrow when she wakes up I'll be the first person that she'll kiss. That little girl is going to be crushed if I tell her that I can't allow her to kiss me or Helen any more. You better be the one to tell her. All I know is that telling her that she can't is not going to make her love you," Dr. Hamilton said wearily as he sat down/
Bruce wondered if Hamilton was right. It hurt to see his daughter hug and kiss another man and woman and refer to them as her mother and father. But it would hurt a whole lot more if he saw resentment in his daughter's eyes when she talked to him and he forced her to make a choice between the Hamiltons' and him and Rachel.