In the Dark of the Night
Author's note: I have been writing for some time now. I only started writing for Batman after watching Batman... Show full author's note »
Chapter TwoThe door swung open to reveal a beautiful room painted the shade of lavenders in the sun with a deep purple accent. The large four poster bed was clothed in deep purple silk bedding and was hung with a thin curtain all around. The dresser, nightstand, mirror and bed frame were all a rustic black. I gasped.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.” I said, turning to Alfred who nodded respectfully and retreated to the doorway.
“If you need me just give a shout. If I don’t hear you, Master Bruce will.” He said and closed the door behind him. It was then that I noticed another door. As I came to find out it lead to a bathroom, furnished all in a beautiful copper, like a brand new penny. Slowly I walked back to the center of the room and turned a full circle. I could get used to this. Back at home we didn’t have much.
Dad and I lived together in a two room apartment in center city Gotham. Half the time the roof leaked, there were spiders in the bath tub and mice in the basement. It wasn’t exactly perfect, but it was home. Home. S***, I had left my clothes and things back at the apartment. I opened the door to my new room and poked my head into the hall. “Alfred?” I called. An answer came from the end of the hall.
“Yes miss Crane?” he said, emerging from a room at the end of the hall.
“I left all my things at my apartment.” I said. He nodded.
“That is being taken care of as we speak, miss. Dinner is in fifteen minutes, Master Bruce would very much enjoy it if you joined him tonight.” I nodded my consent, I would be there.
Later that night I found myself sitting two chairs over from Bruce at the dining room table. Alfred had prepared a simple Alfredo and I nervously picked at my noodles. Bruce seemed to notice and set his fork down next to his plate. “Everything okay Alle?” he asked, turning his body to face me.
“Oh, it’s all great, thank you. I’m just a little worried is all.” I answered.
“Your dad, you mean?” he asked, I nodded.
“They gave me his mask before I left County. He’s the only one there, you know?” Bruce seemed shocked.
“Really? That’s odd, normally County is chock full of drug dealers and criminals of all sorts.” I shrugged.
“Well not anymore. I guess the Batman is slacking a little bit.” I said, continuing to pick at my now destroyed noodles. Bruce placed his napkin on the table and stood up. “Where are you going?” I asked. He smiled down at me and offered me his arm. Slowly I stood up next to him and looped my arm through his. He lead me to my room. Sitting in all corners of the room where boxes. I looked at him, shock completely visible on my features.
“This is amazing, how…when, I mean…oh my god.” I said, diving for the first box. Inside were books. Books about faeries and magic dragons that fought bold princes, books about psychology and fear, books about chemicals, and sketchbooks upon sketchbooks filled with scratchy black ink drawings. Bruce smiled at me as I dove into the next box.
“I had some friends bring them over from your apartment. I hope you don’t mind.” I shook my head, fighting back tears. The box that I had grabbed held picture frames filled with photos of me and my dad through all years. Preschool graduation, at the playground around the corner from the apartment, at the boardwalk and everywhere else imaginable. “Alle, you alright?” Bruce asked, kneeling down to where I sat on the floor. I nodded and wiped at the tears running down my face.
“I’m gonna miss him Bruce. He was all I had in the world. He may have been crazy and psychotic and a complete nut job. But he was my dad.” Bruce nodded and stood up.
“I’ll leave you to it then. If you need anything my room is down the hall.”
“Thanks.” I managed. He ruffled my hair lightly and left, closing the door behind him. When I was sure he was gone I broke down into tears. Sobs raked my body and tears rolled freely down my face as I sat in front of the tattered box of photographs. My own personal box of memories. Memories of a father that was no longer in my life, according to the law. “I’ll get you out daddy.” I promised to the silent room around me.