#bruce wayne is trying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beware-of-pity · 2 months ago

Text

Sins of the Father(s) VI

Masterlist

Previous chapter - Next

Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary :

One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There's only one recorded, But both belong to me.

Chapter VI: People say we're alike (They say we've got the same hair, It's you and me on the coin)

ִֶ. . ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

When you were younger, you weren’t too fond of people’s attention being drawn to you, when women would gush over how cute you were, and older men would look at you and wish for daughters as intelligent, which you didn’t think you were, as you were. Now that you were older, you liked attention much less.

There was something about being sought after that just made your head hurt. The constant phone calls, the dozens of voicemails, the appointments Charlotte made for you that you didn’t authorise for people you would rather not see. Those were the days when you truly needed an out, and, somehow, you always found yourself up in downtown Gotham, outside a burger shop in one of the most unkept neighbours in the area, and a greasy mess of meat, cheese and sleazy, oily, slick dripping down your hands as you indulged in the bomb of calories you were gripping for dear life. Joining you tonight, was your little sister Eleanor, who was staying with you for a few days to write a piece for her journalism class about the recent passing of Mayor Mitchell. Despite the somewhat sketchy surroundings, both of you seem surprisingly at ease. Eleanor appears almost amused by the stark contrast between your usual upscale life and the rugged, grease-covered burger joint, though she didn’t complain, she preferred this much better, making her feel like a normal girl in her early twenties instead of the upstanding persona she had to put up with because of her family name.

You felt that close to home, more than you liked to admit.

You and Eleanor, and by default your brother, Herbert, had an age gap in between, and although not big by any means, it always made you the third primary carer of your much younger siblings. You wanted them to lead normal lives, far away from the social circle formed only ever by people of your ‘standing’, which included the rich, pompous, and entitled brats you had grown up around alongside Bruce.

When you had moved away for college for a few years, whenever you came back for the holidays or family business, you would sneak them out of the house for a quick run down to whatever fast food chain they were craving at two in the morning. You spoiled them rotten with gifts all year round, to the point where those you bestowed upon them on Christmas morning were nothing more than spare change you had not spent on them during the year.

Eleanor and Herbert were one of the few things you loved in life. Despite having a pretty perfect one you never had friends you could consider true friends growing up, just people who only “liked�� you because of your social status, except Bruce. But with your siblings, that didn’t matter at all. And although you all had your ups and downs with one another, the three of you loved each other to no end. The two of them were eternally grateful for everything you did for them and shielded them from, and however young they were, they both understood that because you were the eldest, they were shielded from a lot as a result. Had your brother been older, even now that he was twenty-one, he would have become the man of the house much earlier. Still, instead, you were given precede and seniority over such title, which no one thought he should be given when you had proven yourself more than capable of committing to such a role for so long. Your mother had all but reinforced over everyone in the family, close relatives and cousins whose names you could not care to remember, as well as your late father’s advisors and ‘friends’, such as accountants, lawyers and political allies, that you were to be the one they would from now on have to look up to in the hierarchy that your family revolved around — and they would have to content themselves to that. They would answer to you and only you whether they liked it or not it was not of her concern.

All had bowed their heads and became subservient to the new order of things except your uncle, your late father’s brother. He was displeased, but then again, he was by many things. You and your brother used to joke that he was displeased by the notion of the world existing altogether, for whenever was your uncle pleased by something? He was a born contrarian, a man who contradicted others for the pleasure of doing so, for the righteousness of it. When your father died, he was the first to oppose the notion of you taking the reins as head of the family. It didn't matter to him that you had been the one who had been trained by your father to take over, that you had been the one who had been groomed for the position. He argued that a child like you could not truly grow into the role given to you - and he was right, you were a child,a frightened one, no older than twelve years old and being trusted upon a game you were unfamiliar with, whose manoeuvrings your mother had yet to explain to you, and no father to teach you.

Nevertheless, it just seemed like nothing was ever enough for him. He held in his hand the same greed they talk about in the Bible like he was a dam always filled with water, but so profound that no matter how much water you poured in it, you could never fill.

But that didn't stop his incessant whining and complaining, always feeling like he should have gotten more. Even now, he tried to throw his weight around, trying to make decisions that weren't his to make and trying to undermine your authority at every turn. It was frustrating, but you knew you had to stand your ground and not give in to his demands.

His greed had gotten the better of him, forcing you to agree to some of his ridiculous demands. The one you regretted most, is not having fought hard enough to maintain all of your father’s assets which he had snatched up before it had even been placed on the table. You had a long, legal battle with him about them, not for you and not one you exactly led yourself, that had been your mother.

You didn’t need the money, but your brother and sister did, they deserved them, but he had been downright cruel with his intents and harsh comebacks at every hearing, every meeting, and every lunch or family event he invited himself to. You pretended to be strong in front of everyone. However, you had caved after years of this back and forth, which had begun when you were still a child of just thirteen. You had let him keep the share he ‘claimed’ your father had promised him, proving such a promise with a flimsy piece of paper, with your father’s handwriting meticulously put on paper, that you thought he should have shoved up his ass. It was infuriating, and you did not doubt that he had used his connections and influence to his advantage to get what he wanted.

The worst part about your uncle was that, when he wasn't being a stubborn and disagreeable bastard, he could be somewhat pleasant to be around.

You don’t exactly remember how you two had reconciled after everything, but if there was one thing you were sure of, was that whatever you two had was never the same. You were amicable at best, but all those times he had become someone you did not know, cut too deep to become fleeting memories, and yet whenever you looked at him, all you wished was to become his favourite niece once more. He had been the second most important man in your life, and he had been like a father to you once upon a time who watched you grow as his own, you had wanted to make him proud most of all.

You held a child’s naivety to you, missing the part of him from your childhood which were it not staring at you in a twisted and older face, you would surely think you had dreamt once upon a time. The uncle who would let you sleep in his lap as he combed your hair, shushing your mother away when she would try and take you from him and protect you from her berating whenever you did something wrong, which you rightfully deserved to be educated upon as for it not to happen again. You would stare at him endlessly during those times he shoved the worst of him, and you would wonder just when he had begun to see you as his enemy and not the niece he once loved as his own when you had become undeserving of his love.

After the settlement, though things had come to drift back to normal, your uncle had seemed to find a new favourite in your younger brother, Herbert. He would spoil him with gifts and attention, treating him almost as if he were his own son, more than likely out of the fact that he had no child of his own, with neither your late aunt nor the much younger wife he had acquired not long after he had become newly widowed years back, the same woman you were still trying to get out of her financially, ridiculous, situation in hopes he would not find out first and not let his wrath befall her. And whenever he deigned to remember your younger sister, Eleanor, he would bring her gifts catering to her interests, further fueling your irritation. You didn’t want them to become estranged from him as a result of the lingering animosity that fueled the divide and break in your family which had yet to be restored, encouraging them to be nice and welcoming to him whenever he was around to set the example that you had brought them up to become better people than most.

Herbert had become none the wiser, seeing his uncle as a sort of second father, which you did not fault him for but wished he could have chosen any other man in the family, but Eleanor knew better.

She understood people better than most, and despite how she built a fortress around herself in the form of her ‘youngster style’ as most in the family described it, which you thought was a bit ridiculous since she was just grungy and liked edgy things. Despite her sometimes aloof and rebellious demeanour, Eleanor was surprisingly observant. She had grown up to be a perceptive and observational person, likely caused by the sudden shift in dynamic she had lived her childhood with. Anyone would be were the circumstances demanded it from them.

She was always watching you, studying your every move and expression like a hawk. You had allowed it because you saw no harm in it, a quirk of hers, you thought it simply was, she had once asked you why you smiled when you were not happy.

You stood on opposite sides of the room, watching from different windows as your brother and uncle fumbled with a ball, passing it back and forth, between jabs and limericks throw at each other.

"Why do you smile when you're not happy?" she asked, her perceptive eyes watching you intently.”I know it bothers you” Instead of deflecting or brushing her question off, you found yourself honest with her. "It's just a mask, a facade," you said, shrugging as if it were a simple matter. “Everyone has one, wears one. In public, I have to keep up appearances. Smiling is a part of that. But you already knew that, didn't you?" you added, giving her a faint smile. She wondered whether it was genuine or not.

Despite so, Eleanor returned the smile, still studying you even as she spoke. "Yes, I knew. But that's not what I'm asking," she said, her tone becoming more serious, more focused. "I'm asking why you force yourself to smile when it's so clear you're miserable.”

You hadn't expected her to dig at you, to see through your mask so easily. You paused for a moment, taken aback by her blunt words. You sighed and turned your eyes from the scene below. Looking into her observant eyes, you spoke the truth. "Because I have to," you said, your voice low and weary. "I have responsibilities, people counting on me. I have to keep everything together, even if it means hiding how I feel.”

She studied you even more intently as you spoke, her eyes never leaving your face. She seemed to be absorbing every word, like a dry sponge thrown into a bucket absorbing the liquid being fed to her, every expression, every nuance that betrayed your true feelings. She nodded slowly, as if in understanding, though she surely did not look much convinced by it.

"So you're pretending," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You're putting up a front to make everyone happy, but it's all just a cover for what you feel inside.”

"A blow to one of us is a blow to the family", you explained a concept she wasn’t unfamiliar with "One of us has to be strong enough to be the bearer of such a blow, and I've had to shield you and your brother from many of them”

Eleanor didn't respond immediately. She took in your words and mulled them over. After a moment of silence, she spoke again.

"But is it fair that you have to shoulder all of the burden by yourself?" she asked quietly. "Why do you have to be the one who carries the weight, while the rest of us remain unburdened?"

"Fairness is a double-edged sword," you gulped a hard knot “Often pointing at the wielder, not at whose hilt it is directed to. Nothing is fair in this world because the world is not fair, and it will not become so just because you wish it. There are many people out there who do not want it to change, and those powerful enough to maintain the status quo will uphold it till their very end" you said "As such, we must all conform to the world”

Listening intently as you spoke, still watching you thoughtfully, she didn't argue or challenge your words, simply absorbing them and contemplating them, neither disagreeing nor agreeing. You could almost see the gears turning in her mind as she processed every word.

"But is it right that you, and only you, should have to shoulder the burden and uphold the status quo of us?" she asked, her voice low and serious. "Shouldn't the responsibility fall on everyone's shoulders, not just yours?”

"Fairness does not matter in this," you said "only what is right. It's the survival of the fittest, only the strong come on top” you smiled her way “and the strong must protect the weak”

She tightened her lips and behind her back, her fist as well, and perhaps her heart did so too. "Isn't fairness and what's right the same thing?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "If fairness doesn't matter, then what does matter?"

"What we do to survive"

She whipped her head around so fast one might it could have snapped her neck if any faster. Bewilderment crossed her face in a tight mark as it darkens by the resolution of your tone, but not caused by your words but rather by the fact that you were the one speaking them. What pained her most was that she understood what you were saying, the meaning behind your words, and the underlying ruthlessness that came with them.

"Survival of the fittest," she repeated, a hint of distaste in her voice. "Is that all life comes down to? Just surviving?”

“We must do what we must” You nodded slowly, your expression stoic. “Yes,” the simple admission cut the air, knowing that your words would likely not go over well with your younger sister.

Eleanor seemed to shrink at your answer as if it pained her to hear. "But what about happiness?" she asked, her voice small like that of a child, which you still thought she was, no matter how much she had grown.

A twinge of guilt tingled at the tips of your fingers, rushed to your veins, to come to pump in your heart, aching so painfully, as you heard her question. You knew that happiness wasn't a luxury that the life you lived allowed, but you also knew that it was hard for the idealistic, romanticised teenage mind to accept such a truth.

"Happiness isn't a priority," you said, your tone blunt. “Not for me,” you clarified. “Survival is. Happiness will come later, if at all. For now, we must do whatever we can to survive." You crossed the room to stand close to her. "Are you not happy, Eleanor?”

She remained silent as she watched Herbert's bombing laugh cross the courtyard and resound in her ear. The disappointment, the hurt, and the contemplation swirled in a wrestle of thought as if she herself was wrestling against them, the harsh truth of your words, and the idealistic world she wanted to live in.

"I am," she said finally, her voice quiet. "But it doesn't feel like anything compared to how unhappy you are…"

You placed a hand upon her cheek, your thumb caressing the soft flesh "It isn't important that I'm happy," you said, your tone reassuring. "My responsibility is to ensure that you and your brother are happy and safe. That's what matters.”

Eleanor was quiet again, her gaze still fixed on your face. You could see the silent pleading in her eyes, the desire for you to open up and share your pain with her. But you didn't budge. You kept your expression stoic and impassive, refusing to show any vulnerability. You knew that letting your guard down would only worry her even more, and you didn't want to burden her with your own unhappiness. Before she could refuse, argue, or disagree with you, you gave her a tight smile and a kiss on her cheek. She closed her lips, holding her tongue back from speaking as she closed her eyes, accepting the gesture and the unspoken message.

With a final squeeze of her hand, you left her alone in the room, having her watch as you once again walked away from any confrontation, silently wishing you’d let her in once and for all. But you knew you couldn't, both for her sake and yours.

It may have been that which resulted in the rift between you and your two siblings. A result of a combination of you being older than them and being shielded from a lot of stuff you had not had the privilege of being protected from, the same way they were. Herbert had been born when you were six and Hellena when you were eight; it was no wonder that with them being born only two years apart, they were closer to each other, bonded by that shared shield of childhood innocence, while you stood on the other side, having grown up too quickly and too soon. You loved them to bits no matter what, taking care of and doting upon them as if they were your own, but life got in the way, and with you being busy with school, your studies, college, work and now your very public life, you were given the short end of the stick to fiddle with. And now, they both were young adults, making their way into the world by building, lives of their own, in their name, with their means in the things they loved most. They had found and formed their own paths in life, which you couldn’t be more than proud of, and yet you suppose you were being selfish by not wanting them to grow more than they already had.

It was no one's fault, really; it was just life.

It was unfair, in a way, that fate had dealt you this hand. But you couldn't begrudge your siblings their close relationship. After all, you had been the one to step up and sacrifice your own childhood to protect them. It was a role you had willingly taken on, even if it meant growing up too fast and missing out on the carefree years they were enjoying. You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions about it. Pride, for sure, but also a pang of sadness and a hint of jealousy. Pride for their accomplishments, sadness for the distance between them, and envy for the freedom they had to simply be young without the weight of responsibility on their shoulders.

“So” you began, trying to toss away your thoughts into a fishing net, letting it out in the sea of possibilities, hoping to catch the biggest fish of the night “Come along, tell me about college. How is it? How are your classes?”

She pushed down the last bite of burger she had in her mouth, chewing the remnants. "College is great," she said, her voice cheerful. “Classes are tough, but I really enjoy them. I've made some really good friends, and I'm learning a lot.” She sighed “It’s just that, I keep getting lost. I asked for directions the other day, and one girl, I think she was a grade above mine, pointed straight and told me to follow the ‘bush” Her tone had a hint of exasperation as she recounted what must have been a more than unusual ordeal “, but there was no bush, so I stood there looking for it just to realise-“

“That she meant the lampost” you concluded her discovery for her. She looked at you as if both surprised and stunned you knew what she was talking about. “To be fair, she should have said ‘burning bush’, might have helped you better”

“Yes,” she mumbled before she added another of her discoveries “A semester is not a term but rather” she waited for you to finish “it’s a halve” You chuckled at this game you were both playing.

“Lessons are not lessons they’re” “divs” Now it seemed Eleanor was getting excited. “And professors are beaks!” You both exclaimed before bursting into a fit of laughter. “Is it true that it’s because of the raven insignia?” She asked “Well, I suppose so, but back when I was getting private lessons, it all was all more sober and harsh. Ever since they opened to girls too, they’ve seemed to have radicalized themselves to the modernity of the world.”

You smiled in turn. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and for a moment, she looked like a girl again, brimming with the boundless enthusiasm of youth. It was a stark contrast to the often jaded and ‘cynical towards others’ teenager she'd become in the years you'd tried to prepare her for the harsh realities of life.

"How lucky," you took a bite of the fry you had dipped into a mix of mayonnaise, ketchup and some other slightly orange dressing she had taken "if only my own college experience had been half as good as yours”

Eleanor's smile faltered slightly at your words, sensing the bittersweet undertone in them. "Was it really that bad?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Your shoulders dropped when you realized you had expressed yourself wrongly, and you rushed to explain yourself “No, just didn't have as much fun as I hoped I would" you said “You know, I always heard that college is supposedly this period where you fully live life, but you tell me how much fun you can find in political science”

Eleanor chuckled at your comment, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yeah, political science isn't exactly the epitome of fun, is it?" she said with a wry smile. “Sounds about as exciting as watching paint dry.”

You smacked her hand from across the table, causing her to shriek as if you had just tried to kill her. She dropped her half-eaten burger back in its paper box before she exclaimed “She hit me! She hit me!” She cried out, jokingly, but as serious as any younger sibling would be believed by their parent over their older sibling. Eleanor's dramatic protest echoed through the cold air, and for a moment, you felt transported back to childhood.

“I did not!” You denied, playing along with the act.

"Oh, don't even try to deny it!" Eleanor said, holding her "wounded" hand to her chest, a dramatic pout on her face. "You totally hit me! They’re going to have to cut it off” she sobbed

You rolled your eyes "You'll be fine, and if not, don't worry, I'll tell Mom you were as clumsy as ever”

Eleanor gasped in mock-offence. "You would not!" she exclaimed, dropping her wounded hand and pointing an accusing finger at you. "You wouldn't dare tell mom something like that.”

“You know I would” you chuckled, vindictively.

Her eyes widened in horror, and she gave a dramatic cry of desperation, clutching her chest in a mock swoon. "You monster!" she exclaimed, her tone comically outraged. "How could you betray me like this?”

“Sorry, Bell.” You smiled before taking a sip of your beer “My loyalties lie with the boss”

Her own smile turned to tease, and she continued in a mock-dramatic tone, "Well, I guess I'll just have to accept being second fiddle to the almighty boss, won't I?”

“Oh, please. As if your own don’t alline with Herbert” you blurted, regrettably, before you could stop yourself.

Eleanor's eyes widened, and she froze for a moment, her grin faltering slightly. You had inadvertently touched upon the delicate topic of her sibling relationship with Herbert, something you both tended to avoid. You waved your hand. "Ah, never mind," you dismissed, a touch of defensiveness mixed with nonchalance in your voice. “Forget I said anything about him.”

She quickly regained her composure, but the shadow of thought passed over her features. "Oh, well, you know us siblings," she said, her tone light and dismissive. "We're always conspiring against one another, aren't we?”

“Just as long as we don’t kill each other,no?” You proposed those words as a way to lighten the mood.

She let out a lighthearted laugh, grateful for your attempt to ease the tension. "That's right," she said, her tone more relaxed. "As long as we don't resort to fratricide, we're good.” Her teasing smile returned in full force, and she added, "Plus, I think mom would kill us before we have the chance to kill each other.”

“She would never let me live it down if something were to happen to either of you two,” you said as you returned to finish the last bites of your burger.

Eleanor chuckled, nodding her head in agreement. "You're right about that," she said, as she picked up her own burger to finish so you two could return to the comfort and warmth of your apartment. "Mom's got eyes and ears everywhere. She'd know the instant one of us got into any trouble.” She said “I’m sure she even knew we’re here right now”

“She’s right to worry” you reprimanded “now more than ever”

Your mother had initially argued against Eleanor coming to stay with you to write this paper about Mitchell. She didn’t think that Gotham was safe enough, not now with a killer on the loose. She had pleaded for you to come home as well, in the comfort of it, and where she could make sure that you were both safe since Herbert was out of town on a trip with some of his friends. So worried she had become that after you had gone to Mitchell’s wife to pay your respects early in the afternoon, you had to drive all the way to Bristol just to reassure her that nothing would happen, to none of you, that Eleanor was in good hands with you, and that this killer on the loose was not heading your way to slit your troath. You had walked her through the moment, calming her down, making her a cup of camomille. In the end, your family doctor had to come to check and make sure she was fine, as were her vitals. Your mother wasn’t exactly young anymore, and every time something got her levels too high, you worried she got closer to a heart attack than you’d liked.

After the storm had calmed, you had left with your sister, despite your mother’s reluctance. But you had promised her you would come again on the morrow to make sure she was fine.

Eleanor silently sat and listened to you speak, her burger hanging from her hand. She knew your mother's concern for them was justified. Gotham had never been a safe city, and things only seemed to be getting worse recently. But she also knew that you were capable of taking care of her and yourself. Despite the dangers of the city, she trusted in the fact that with you around, she would be safe, no matter what lurked in the shadows, as she always did, as she always had ever since she was young. After a moment, she spoke up again, her voice quieter now. "You know mom really worries about us. Especially with what's happening in the city lately."

She took a bite of her burger, her gaze fixed on the table as if trying to find the right words. "But I know you'll keep us safe," she looked up at you, her eyes earnest. "You've always been there for us, after all. Haven't you?”

You smiled at the truth of the world, but the lines of your face strained with the depth of them and the time you had to bear such responsibility “Of course” you reassured “I would never let anything happen to you, or Herbert, or mother”

Eleanor nodded, the faith in your words bringing a small, but sincere smile to her lips. "I know you wouldn't," she said softly. "You've always protected us. Ever since we were kids.” She paused for a moment, her eyes studying your face. "But what about you, though?" she asked, her tone gentle. "Who's protecting you?”

“I’m old enough to protect myself, Bell” you dismissed

Eleanor gave a small, doubtful scoff. "Oh, yeah, and you're doing a bang-up job, are you?" she said, her tone a mix of sarcasm and concern. She set down her burger, fixing you with a stern look. "You always think you've got to handle everything alone, don't you? Always putting us first. But it's okay to admit you need someone to watch your back too, you know.”

“Bell-“ she quickly interrupted you, her eyes narrowing. "No, don't 'Bell' me," she said, her tone firm. "I'm serious. I've spent my whole life, watching, you, our family, and everything that has happened. You've spent your whole life taking care of us, and that's great. But-... but…." Her voice dropped, and there was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "Don't you get tired? Don't you get tired of always being the one who has to be strong for everyone else? Don't you get fed up with always putting us first and yourself second?”

"it is the right thing!" you argued "You know how fragile mom is, and Herbert lazies around like he has all the time in the world to pick his life up whenever he wants. And why should I take away the comfort of the normal life you've built to give you a load of what I've shouldered my entire life?!”

“Because that's not fair!" she exclaimed “It’s not fair!” her voice cracked as she continued, her emotions getting the better of her. "It's not fair that you have to carry everything all by yourself. That you have to be the strong one, the responsible one, all the time. You're just one person! You can't possibly be expected to handle it all alone!” Her voice cracked as she continued, her emotions getting the better of her. “You can't possibly be expected to handle it all alone!”

Her voice cracked, a hint of desperation edging into her tone. "and when that happens, I'll lose you too!" she said, "like father, and what will I do then?!” Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and she was clearly fighting back a swell of complex emotions.

You stared at her, your own emotions warring within you. Seeing the vulnerability, the fear in her eyes brought back a flood of memories. Memories of the little girl who, in her innocence, thought you were invincible. Who came to you to patch her scraped knees and soothe her broken dreams? Who thought you could fix everything because you were her big sister?

She looked away, her gaze turning to the nightly horizon as if she couldn't bear to look at you directly. Her voice quivered, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. "You know damn well how Mother and I rely on you…" Her next words came out in a near whisper, her voice so low that you had to strain to hear her. "and I don't know what I would do if... if something happened to you, too…"

But here she was now, all grown up, and still looking to you for strength. Still need your reassurance, your protection, and your guidance. And the weight of that responsibility, that role you had played all your life, suddenly seemed much heavier than before. You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. The right words to reassure her, to tell her everything would be okay. The right words to show her that you were still strong, still invincible. But the truth was, underneath it all, you were just as terrified as she was. You were terrified of letting her down, of not being able to protect her, of failing the way you had failed your father. And now, you were also afraid of showing her that fear, because she already looked so much like a scared little girl.

So instead, you reached across the table, taking her trembling hand in yours. “look at me," you said, forcing your voice to sound steady. "I'm not going anywhere," you said firmly, meeting her eye. "I promise. I'm going to be right here, no matter what. I'm not going to let anything happen to any of you, especially not you.”

You saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes, but she held them back, a small, tremulous smile on her lips. "You better not," she said, trying to inject some of her usual sass into her tone, but she failed utterly, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

She clasped your hand tightly in hers, the strength of her grip betraying just how much she was holding back. "You're not allowed to leave us, understand?" she said, her voice growing hoarse. Her hand tightened around yours, her fingers clinging to you like a lifeline. "Because if you do," she continued, her voice now a whisper. "I'll kill you myself.”

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiling in a way that made the cold dissipate from her bones and fill her with warmth "If I ever do bite the bullet, who's going to keep you out of trouble?”

She huffed a small sob-laughed at your words, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, trying to regain her composure. "Probably no one," she said, her tone light but still strained. "Or maybe Herbert, if he can ever be bothered to get off his ass.” She chuckled hollowly, the sound a mix of despair and acceptance. "That'd be a nightmare, can you imagine? Me, with Herbert as my only keeper?”

Despite the situation, you couldn't help but share a weak chuckle with her. The thought of Herbert trying to play the role of guardian was laughable. "I'd probably end up in jail within a day for something stupid," she said, her lips trembling again, and she fought against the tears. "Herbert would probably bribe to get me out, only to get me in even more trouble the next day.”

"We must not let that happen, then, mhm?”

She gave a small nod, her hand still clutching yours, gripping it as if to anchor herself to what little feeling of security was left between you. "No," she whispered, her voice more steady now. "We can't. I wouldn't survive without you.”

Your heart ached at her words, knowing the weight behind them. You squeezed her hand in reassurance, trying to convey silently what you couldn't put into words - that you would do anything to keep her safe, no matter what. "let's go home, yeah?”

Eleanor nodded slowly, wiping the lingering tears from her cheeks with her free hand. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice still a little shaky. "Home sounds good right now.”

As the two of you gathered your things, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air, you both knew that the road ahead was going to be difficult. But for now, the comfort of home and each other's company was all that mattered. But just before you two could cross the street to get to your car, two people jockey for the lead on their bikes, surely rocketing over 100 mph, just a fleeting blur, as they zoom past, both you and your sister, as well as some pedestrians still awake in the middle of the night crane their heads in surprise. Throughout it all, only one thing is distinguishable, the cape that one of the riders wore, flipping in the air behind him as he follows the woman leading the charge.

That’s when your sister, still reeling from the mix of emotions she had just poured out, exclaims,

“Was that the fucking Batman?”

AN: Sixth installation of this fic! we're moving steadily, are we not? It is a little easter egg, but the reader's siblings are named after prominent US leaders, one president and a first lady. I was thinking of making a tag list for this fic, but I don't think it has enough readers for me to do such a thing. Let me know what you guys think :)

21 notes · View notes