Issue #21: Meet The Caspians

"Thank you, Sister Margaret!" I bow my head at the wizened woman in front of me.

Clad in a worn habit and soot-stained gardening gloves, Sister Margaret had just given me the number for a vocation director near New York who will help me to join their nunnery in a year's time.

Her bright and kind smile proves a stark contrast to her desolate surroundings, dead grass and rotting trees evident from the drive through the prairie under the nuns care. It seems that Gotham's industrial sections pour their chemicals up river and it travels through the prairie, corrupting the very lands that feed the orphans under their care.

"Don't worry, Sister Margaret. Once I return to Gotham, I'll be heading straight to the City Hall." I promise her, jaw set with grim determination.

Although I know it will probably be for naught, given that the city is far from election day, I've always believed that you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take.

"You're a kind soul, Rachel. But, as always, don't push yourself too hard." Sister Margaret sighs at my enthusiasm. "Stay safe, alright? I heard there's a maniac running around Gotham nowadays."

I scoff lightly, "When has there never been one? I just assumed that guy would have–pardon my words–gone with the devil while we were away."

Sister Margaret chuckles at my words, swatting me away with humor. "Oh, dear. You'll be a hit with the kids."

I grin at her compliment, saying my goodbyes and descending the dilapidated brick stairs that spirals down and to the left. The church itself is built upon an upward hill, picked for its highly defensible position during the American civil war. Fortunately for the Union general, the war didn't spread towards that part of the east coast.

I wave at Augie, having been my chaperone for the past week and a half that I stay in his house. Although he has yet to actually see it as 'his' house, Father and I have been doing our best to settle him in.

'It's not like we'd like to stay there even if I wasn't going to be a nun. Too much bad memories.'

"Ready to go?" He asks, spitting his chewing gum on the soft grass.

"Really?" I ask, glaring at him until he cracks and picks up the gum and puts it in his pants pocket. "Good. Straight to Gotham please, conductor!"

"Jeez, Rachel!" Augie blushes. "I told you to stop."

"Well, I'm not the one who's dating a train engineer…" I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing too much as I enter the back of the car and rest my head on the leather.

Augie didn't say anything afterwards, but I know he's just biding his time to get back at me. As such, most of the car ride towards the city is spent in silence. 

I usually hate silence because it reminds me of the days after losing my mother. Father would disappear in the middle of the day and come back either in the middle of the night or the day after. Either way, he would be drenched in sweat, tired, and, oftentimes, wounded and bruised like a peach from Guatemala.

I was maybe nine or ten years old back then, Augie was twelve. We both lost important people that day, which, in retrospect, was a fucked-up blessing for both of us. When my father was not there and his mother was busy making funeral arrangements and drinking herself to near death, we were both making each other's days.

When we enter the city through the overpass, a certain billboard makes me chuckle and remember what happened in the past.

"Augie," I call out, earning his attention and distracting him from driving. "Do you remember when I tried to kiss you a year after the incident?"

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement, "I didn't even know Ivan was there!"

I shrug, "God, was I stupid? I didn't see the signs."

"To be fair, I was pretty damn good at hiding it." He reasons. "But you took it well enough, right? I would've assumed being rejected by your best friend and getting clocked in the face with his boyfriend would send you down a spiral."

"I still have his necklace, by the way." I say, which causes him to burst out in laughter.

I didn't know what happened to the two of them or how they broke up seeing as Father and I left Gotham a year after that punch. All I know is that Augie was crying upstairs when Father grabs me out of my bed and packs up one bag of clothing before departing the city on a boat.

'We never looked back. I wonder why?'

"We're here, by the way." He points towards the large three-story building that is centered in a small park.

"That was fast." I mutter.

Augie parks the car in front of the steps that leads towards the entrance, "Just follow the steps and you're there. I'm gonna park this bitch out the back."

"What for? I'll be fast." I say.

"Sure you are," He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

I exit the car and ascend the small steps, weaving through the government workers and park patrons. The mid-day sun bathes the smooth stone that paves the whole park, trees dot the landscape while a few benches offer a bit of reprieve and rest from the wintery chill that is carried by the breeze.

Surprisingly enough, there's no skyscraper within three hundred feet of the city hall. Contrary to my expectation, the city seems peaceful from this angle. It reeks of silent exuberance, allowing its citizens to flourish without entertaining the thoughts of hedonistic anarchy.

That is, of course, before I come across a handsome man in what was once a well-tailored suit. Now in tatters, the suit clings to his honed body like a piece of flesh, with just enough of a hole for me to see his well-crafted chest and chiseled abs.

'Is that a bruise on his che–'

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." His words bring me out of my musings as I take a step back with a startle.

That, however, is to my detriment, as my stilettos get stuck in the crack on the pavement, causing me to stumble back and fall below the step. But before I can crack my head against the floor and bleed to death, a strong, muscular arm catches me by the nape of my neck and my shoulders.

The light from the sun disappears as a handsome, blue-eyed, brown-haired face replaces it.

"I don't know who's more hungover, me or you?" He jokes as he pulls me upward and into his warm embrace.

"Tha–I'm not… God!"

The man chuckled, letting me out of his embrace whilst using his other hand to stray myself. "It's just a joke, Miss."

"I-I know!" I say, a little too loud. I cup my face, pretending to check it for any injury to hide the blush on my face. "Thank you, kind sir!"

The man barks out a laugh, "Sorry, I usually get, "Screw you, you bastard!""

"Well, that's not… I won't be saying that." I stammer out.

'Oh, god. What is happening to me? I'm a people person.'

"Don't worry about it." He waves me off, walking past me. "Name's Bruce, Bruce Wayne."

"Rachel Caspian." I blurt out before he walks away.

"Uh, sir! I mean, Bruce." I call out and to my surprise and delight, he turns around with a quizzical eye. "Would–How about coffee for, you know… to say thanks?"

He smiles, "I would love that."

•••

In my many years of being a human being, never once did I become curious as to question the increasing quantity of the color spectrum within a human's eyes. Yet, here I am, in Gotham's premier patisserie with my mother, the head maid, and my temporary bodyguard–Simon?.

We have been scrutinizing–mostly mother and Jasmine–the cakes and chiffons presented by the patissiers of the shop, which, If I am to be frank, is quite enjoyable. Especially when mother becomes too engrossed in feeling the so called 'notes' inside of the fruitcake to care about the feelings of the increasingly annoyed pastry chef.

"What do you think, Eddy? Carrot cake?" Mother asks for the first time since we arrived here about two hours ago.

I snort at her words, shaking my head in mock frustration. "Oh, we're taking in the birthday celebrant's opinion now? What is this Soviet Russia?" 

I usually get a bark of laughter from Olgar, but that Belarusian bastard is off getting healed in Happy Harbor right about now. Right in the embrace of the League's on-site members.

'Lucky bastard!'

"Be serious, Eddy. This will be your ninth birthday. It needs to be special." Mother admonishes me with a critical light.

Jasmine chuckles, earning my mother's ire, "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just… You say that every year."

Mother scoffs, placing a hand upon her chest, "I do n–This is different. We're going to have a guest of honor with us. A very dear friend of mine came home a few weeks ago and I want to surprise and welcome her back. God knows she deserves it after what happened to her poor mother.."

I tune off the juicy tidbit of information regarding our guest of honor, having made it my business to not know anybody's business. With my brain working at its full capacity at all times, it would probably only be a matter of time before that bit of information gains legs and does something that is newsworthy.

"Will she be joining us for dinner, ma'am?" Jasmine asks.

"Oh, no. We're going to Hyacinth Gardens for a late lunch, then we'll get her settled in her old home." Mother replies, looking towards the bodyguard–Matthew?–with a knowing look. "That's why you're here."

To my annoyance, my mother does not name the bodyguard.

"Uh, c'mon… I gotta go to Wayne Manor after this, mom." I complain with a groan, hiding the fact that Alfred has relocated my training schedule and paraphernalias to a secured Wayne Enterprise-owned warehouse a few dozen blocks away from our house.

It had been an unwelcome surprise, but one that I expected last Monday morning, given that Bruce was close to dying two days before. Still, I didn't even see Bruce that day, as it was Alfred that accompanied me to tour the place and set up the handsome security features.

'I can't believe it has a voice and retinal scanners. I'm so freaking lucky.'

Just as I was remembering the sweet security system of my new place, mother's voice startles me as its pitch turns a note and decibel higher. I turn towards the door only to gaze upon what I could only describe as a fairy.

Her short yet curly blonde hair that barely passes her angled jaw. A bright green eye that sparkles like a mound of glittering emerald amidst a forest grove. All wrapped up in one big puffy marshmallow-like coat, which she wore gloriously.

"Whoa…"

I quickly hide behind Jasmine, scrutinizing the new woman in front of me. From the way mother hugs her as if she was scared of the woman disappearing from existence to how immutable her expression is even against mother's animated stories, it appears that this woman is my mother's very special guest for my birthday.

"Here, I thought she's renting strippers for me."

Jasmine turns towards me with a critical gaze. "Where did you learn that word, young man?"

"What? Oh, did I… Did I say that out loud?" I ask, more to myself than to her. I give her a goofy smile, Jasmine's kryptonite, as I scratch the back of my neck. "Who is she, Miss Jo?"

Jasmine chuckles, ruffling my hair with fervor before turning towards my mother and her new friend. "Her name's Rachel Caspian. A very old friend of your mother. A few years younger than her, but they became close when Rachel's mother became a victim of a very violent crime."

I nod along, looking at her with a suspicious eye. "Uh, when did she arrive?"

"About a few weeks ago." She replies before grabbing both my shoulders and pushes me along towards the women. "Miss Caspian, it's good to see you again."

Rachel Caspian gasped lightly, a bright smile adorning her face. "Miss Jasmine!"

For a moment, Jasmine and Rachel hug each other, clearly well-acquainted and well-loved. Rachel teases mother about being babysat even though she's very old, which causes a very socialite outburst from my mother.

Their conversation takes a U-turn when Rachel notices me, eyes gleaming with interest.

"Well, who is this handsome fella?" Rachel says with a coy smile.

I chuckle handsomely, fixing my clothes and my hair before giving her a prince-charming smile. "How do you do, young lady?"

"Very fine." She holds out her hand, which I take and very gently kisses her knuckles. "What a gentleman!"

A gaggle of laughter erupts afterwards as they continue their conversation, leaving me alone in my devices. I look around with boredom when I notice a familiar-looking car outside of the bakery.

"Shall we go to the Garden?" Mother asks.

Rachel, however, shakes her head. "I… I, uh, I actually met someone yesterday. He's outside actually."

"What? Already?" Mother asks, her eyes squinting like a hawk as she gazes past Rachel. "Where is that man? I can't believe you met someone, and you didn't tell me."

As if waiting for that moment, Bruce Wayne enters the store in a dark gray double-breasted suit with a matching brown overcoat that perfectly complements his piercing blue eyes and brown well-styled hair. It might have looked drab in everyone else, but to Bruce, it's as if he was born with the suit.

Mother's eyes narrow like a hawk as she greets Bruce with a little indignation, "Good morning, Mr. Wayne."

"Good morning, Maria. Miss Jasmine… and Edmund. Looks like the whole family's here." His smile quite literally sparkles as he inches forward with a little pep in his step.

Although it might have looked like a pep in everyone's eyes, my shallow training of body language analyzes that step to be somewhat uneven and shallow when he presses it into the ground. Clearly, the man is still injured from the Reaper's attacks and yet, here he is, gallivanting around town like usual.

'As much as I respect his Batman persona, being Bruce Wayne might be even harder for him.'

"Morning, Mr. Wayne." I greet, and so does Jasmine.

Rachel turns towards Bruce and pecks him lightly on the cheeks, something that causes a blush to appear on her cheeks. Bruce, however, takes it all in light, as his grin never leaves his face.

"You know each other?" She asks quizzically.

"I train this little fella, right there!" He points towards me.

I grin, "Don't worry, Miss Rachel. Mister Wayne is not a pedophile."

A series of gasps echoes around the room the moment I utter my words. I break into a fit of laughter when Bruce and Mother glares at me, Jasmine nearly faints, and Rachel and the chefs become wide eyed.

"Edmund Serana!" Mother states my government name. "What the hell!"

She towers over me now and hastily grabs my ear and twists it.

"AH! Mom!" I tap her wrists repeatedly.

"You don't make jokes like that." She says.

"I know. I know. You're gonna tear it off!" I yell aloud, but still have a smile on my face.

She drags me to the storefront and prods me towards the Wayne couple. "Apologize to Bruce! Now!"

My grin turns diabolical as I glare at Bruce, "Sorry, Mr. Wayne. It's just a joke."

"That's alright. Just make sure not to do that in front of other people." Bruce gracefully accepts my apology, but whispers something that only I and him can hear. "You little..."

"Told you I hold a grudge," I whisper back before turning to Rachel. "Don't worry, Miss Rachel. Mister Wayne's very nice and, oh, Alfred makes excellent tea."

Rachel just smiles at me, but I can see a hint of uncomfortableness in her face.

"So, what's your agenda for today?" He asks mother, changing the topic.

Mother shakes off my joke–quite literally shaking her head–before giving Bruce a smile. "We were supposed to have a late lunch in the Garden–"

Bruce interrupts mother with a bark of laughter. "The Garden? Why don't we meet in Saffron's Bouquet in an hour? My treat."

"Mr. Wayne, not even I could just go there without reservation." Mother sneers.

'A bad idea, but I like that she's antagonistic to Bruce for no reason at all.'

Bruce grins, "Don't worry, Maria. I own it."

Mother falters for a moment before Jasmine swoops with a life-saving rope.

"An hour would work, Ma'am. We need to have Edmund's suit to be re-tailored after the cakes, after all." She says with a gentle smile.

Maria Serana, for the second time in the history of Gotham, backs off in a battle of wills. "Thank you for reminding me, Jasmine. Rachel, we'll meet later. Be careful, alright? There's this madman running around the city."

Rachel laughs quietly, affectionately hooking her arm around Bruce. "Don't worry, Maria. I have my own knight-in-armor in tow."

The two say their goodbyes, with Bruce giving me a weird look when I wink at him and nudge my head towards Rachel. Sure enough, they enter the familiar old-fashioned car and race off to god knows where.

I wonder inwards as to how long that relationship is going to last. I may not be that knowledgeable about Bruce's relationship. What I do know is that it never lasts. There are many ways the women in Bruce's life leave his heart broken. 

They become accomplice to a supervillain or criminal that pops up very recently, and either leaves the city or dies in a standoff between Batman and the villain. There's also the option to leave the city or his relationship with her due to his vigilante job being super dangerous, even in his regular life.

Although I ship Bruce with Selina and, even more strongly with Diana Prince, I do wonder where this relationship with Rachel is going. 

Mother pokes me in the cheek. "What'd you do that for, Ed?"

I grin, "She made you cry, mom. No one makes you cry."