Refugee [Force]

[vigilant]

Silence. Complete and absolute silence. That was the method with which they traveled, through the air, rooftop to rooftop, his wingless flight both graceful and sleek. There was no pause. There was no break. Only the muffled grunt of Gotham's Silent Guardian as he swung them through the steel and asphalt jungle of the city of sin. But his shadow, black as night and heavy as Death, laid claim to the patch of land underneath him. A bat-shaped shadow that loomed like a fearsome terror in the night, causing squirrels to scurry away in fright, and criminals to slink back home with tail between legs.

In that way, Batman guarded his city, just as he has done for the last decade.

But they finally came to a stop, near a well by Wayne Manor. It had long been forsaken, the wood chipped and rust ringing along the edges, faded red, like dry blood. Pulling her closer, he drew the cape around them, so that what was once a shoud of terror became a veil of protection. Down they went, down the well, down the proverbial rabbit hole of Batman's mind, into the dark, dusty recesses of his memories, where there was a boy who fell, screaming the whole way down. Bats. So many bats. Dark. So dark. Fear. So much fear.

But the vision was brief, a misshapen blotch on the black and white canvas of his mind. Piercing through the storm of bats like an arrow, his boot-clad feet stalked across wet ground, through infinite darkness. She would find little comfort in the man who dressed as a bat, save for the feeble pulse underneath the padded armor. One beat, two beat, three. A reminder that he was still human, that the arms that clutched her so tightly belonged to a man; a man like any other.

They stepped into a lighted chute. The sound of movement, complete with vertigo sinking its jaws into her stomach. Then there was light. So much light that at first her eyes burned and her head spun. But she would only have to wait, before the disorientation faded, leaving in its wake the sound of a piano playing quietly. When her eyes adjusted, she would find herself in the bedroom of Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, while Alfred himself, the estate's trusted butler, stepped steadily towards them.

Suddenly, it all came to light.

[Deleted]

The quiet during the trip hardly bothers Phoebe. She's too busy dealing with thoughts to want to speak. Some of them are her own, largely on the subject of Victor. A part of her feels really sad about leaving him like that, and it got even worse when she saw how sad it made him. But, on the other hand, she knew that it had to be done. And as Batman carries her through the city, it's his thoughts that become more important to her.

Trust is a difficult thing for her, but it's something that she wants and craves. She's only a kid, and is very aware of that fact - she can't take care of herself, so she needs rely upon others. But who do you rely upon when you're uncertain of your ability to know who to safely put your trust in and who you can't? Though the more time she spends with Batman, the more confident in him she becomes. His thoughts are very steady; they don't contradict much. Then again, neither did Agent Tiff's. She'll be watching him like a hawk until he proves to be different, though she really liked that he sees it as up to her to figure out where she belongs. And she knows that he meant it too.

Though the thought that she somewhat chafes at is any stray thought he may have of protecting her. She is Force: she protects people, they don't protect her. Well, except when she's sleeping - she'll take it then. But right now she's wide awake, and there's very few physical things that she's afraid of. Certainly not jumping into a dark well full of bats - if she had a reason to, she'd happily jump into it without him. But she's not exactly a normal child that way: she fears things like people she trusted changing their mind abruptly, being shot in the back with a sedative, finding out that she's been working for the wrong side... Bats in the dark are nothing. Ghosts, on the other hand...

All of the sudden, their dark journey ends in a lighted room, and she squints and blinks against it for a moment before her eyes regain their focus. She isn't sure what to make of what she sees - she's never really been in a mansion before. The places she remembers living in for the majority of her life are nothing like this: bare, utilitarian, small, concrete, barred windows, surrounded by a barbed wire fence and guarded by men holding large rifles... Yep, Dorothy is definitely not in Kansas anymore.

She's absolutely silent now, though it wouldn't appear to be due to nerves - her expression is rather calm. She simply hasn't the slightest clue what she ought to be doing at this point. It's partly because, if her evening hadn't taken an abrupt left turn, she'd probably be asleep right now. Not that she's in any mood for sleeping after everything that's just happened. And really, she's just been carried by Batman through Gotham and back to his apparently really fancy house - she can't be blamed for feeling just a little bit lost. She's used to Agent Stevens being there to tell her what to do when crazy things happen.

[vigilant]

'Dorothy' was definitely not in Kansas anymore. There were no men armed with large rifles. No barred windows and drawn shutters. No camera watching her each and every move. It was just Alfred, the caretaker of Wayne Manor, strolling casually towards them. For a second, he seemed to pause, as though caught off guard and noticing Gotham's Caped Crusader for the first time. But there was no fear or hostility in his gaze. No horror spilling across his face like fresh blood at the sight of Gotham's Dark Knight in the flesh. Just a look of infinite patience, as though he knew more much than he would ever let on.

"Alfred, find her a room. Get her situated. She will be staying with us... for now. I'm going to change."

Batman spun sharply on his heel, drew his cape close, and disappeared back into the hidden passageway behind the bookshelves. It closed silently after him, leaving Force alone with Alfred momentarily. The aged butler, expression unchanged, beckoned for the girl to follow. There was an air of formality about him, and the look on his face was stern, solemn, quick to ward off unwelcomed questions and inconvenient visitors.

"Don't worry about Master Bruce. He was always... stand-offish."

He led Force up the spiraling staircases, through a seemingly endless maze of rooms, before they came to a stop outside a door. Unlocking the door with a key, he stepped inside, gesturing for her to look about as she pleased. A fireplace, against the chilly winter nights. Windows, small, perfect to admire the beautiful outdoors with, but set too high for any curious onlookers to peek in. There were books piled along the bedside table, fairytales, storybooks, encyclopedias. Sources of nourishment for the mind and imagination.

"Master Bruce has a habit of taking in... guests, so I am accustomed to it. I am Alfred. this estate's butler. I imagine he will be back shortly to welcome you himself."

[Deleted]

As Batman turns and leaves, Phoebe watches him over her shoulder. There's a moment when she's almost bothered by that, but then she turns her attention to Alfred. There's a moment of hesitation, but then she follows him - yeah, this is okay. The butler's mind is strict but also very caring - almost motherly in a way. She doesn't know how he'd feel about that assessment, but she thinks she likes it.

"Yeah, I know him pretty well already," she replies as she walks. Because that's the truth of it really. The way she gets to know a person is completely different than the way other people would. They start with names, superficial facts about themselves, and slowly dig down from there as they get to know each other. She starts by learning about the way that they think and their core personality. And when you get that from the beginning, getting to know a person happens extremely fast, and Batman - whose real name is Bruce, apparently, not that the fact really even matters to her - is a man who does not want to get close to people. And being unfriendly is an excellent way to avoid making friends. She can't identify with that, but she 'gets' it.

When they arrive at the room, Phoebe's eyes slowly take in everything, but they don't linger very long on anything. Instead her attention goes quickly back to Alfred when he speaks again - people have always been far more important to her than things. She breaks into a sudden smile, "I'm Force. And thank you, Alfred."

[vigilant]

That was when Batman emerged. Yes, Batman. Not Bruce. Not Gotham's Golden Child. Even though the mask, along with the armor, had been replaced with a sparkling new suit, he was still in every way Batman. Because this time, he didn't put up an act. No stupidity, no foolishness, no womanizing. His eyes were sharp and his lips austere. He was solemn, the stern and handsome features made to pop from the cleanly slicked back dark hair.

"I figured you'd already figure out. Not that you care. And if not here,"

He made his way to the bedside table, his gait still reminiscent of Batman. Shoulders flexed, spine erect, always on guard. Prepared to pounce at any given moment. He thumbed through the books, skimmed through a few paragraphs, before he lifted his cool, blue eyes up towards her. Yes, it was Batman's eyes... But it was also Bruce Wayne, hidden, locked up somewhere inside there. There was compassion there, and a touch of humanity; a humanity whose lack of surface area was made up for in depth. The kind of depth that most people would never fully be able to comprehend.

"I don't know where else is safer. Until I find you a better place, you can stay here. Alfred will bring you anything you need."

Alfred had remained silent the whole time. But now, he peered directly at Force, and offered a smile. It was a brief respite, but it would likely be the only smile she'd find here.

[Deleted]

Phoebe looks up at him as he comes back into the room, recognizing Batman easily in spite of the costume change. Even if he'd put on his act, it wouldn't have fooled her for a second - she recognizes people as much as by their mind as by their appearance. And no matter what he wears, he's likely to remain Batman to her - at least in the shorter term. She's hardly more than heard of Bruce Wayne, and that side of him is largely irrelevant to her anyways.

When he heads further into the room, she considers for only a moment before she does the same, heading to the bed. Taking off her backpack, she puts it on top of it before climbing onto it herself and sitting there cross-legged. She doesn't know how long Batman will want to talk to her now, but whether it's long or short she might as well be comfortable.

His words cause her to frown to herself she comments, "Not really, but it would've been really hard to keep it a secret - it only takes one little thought on accident." She sighs heavily before adding, "I know a lot of things I shouldn't. Lots of secrets. But yeah, this one doesn't matter to me. Who would I tell, anyway?" About the only ones who want to know who Batman is are the government, bad guys, and random curious people. And, respectively, she has no faith in them, hates them, and thinks that they should mind their own business.

"Thank you for helping me," she continues after a short pause, "I really need it. My problems are too big for me to figure out by myself." Though perhaps she's accomplished what she needed to: find someone who can help her. Or perhaps she's found someone who can help her find someone who can help her. But another part of her is still fighting off the worry that she's made yet another poor decision. One thing she knows for certain: she's too young to have so much to worry about!

She doesn't bother to waste a smile on Batman, though she's generally quick to give them normally. Between the seriousness in his words and the seriousness in his head that mood tends to rub off on her. But she's glad that Alfred isn't as much - keeps this place from feeling too entirely cold.

[vigilant]

Bruce Wayne, notorious womanizer, CEO of Wayne Enterprise, and Gotham's little Golden Child. Sitting on the bed, with the moonlight spilling across his face, he seemed pale. Tired. Shrunken. Not that Bruce would ever show this side of him in public. Outside, he was the cheery, loose-lipped, flamboyant superstar that everyone fought over. The tales that the press spun about him always involved some scandal or another, bimbo after bimbo. There was always a supermodel on his arm, beaming at the opportunity to be alongside this great man. This young billionaire... This idiot.

But none of them would ever say that out loud.

"You are safe here. Really, if there's anything you need, ask Alfred."

His tone was different though. Not the grave, clean-cut inflection of a man who minced his words and fed it as glass to his enemies. It was almost conversational. There was no growl. There was no snarl. Just thoughtful, easy on the ears, soft. He glanced at Alfred, who had understood everything, without being told a word. No, he wasn't aware that Force could read his mind. No, he didn't know she was a former FBI agent. No, he didn't know she was in hiding... But he will, soon. Master Bruce had a knack for bringing people home, to welcome them as guests to his manor, while keeping them locked outside the gates of his heart. But he was a good man. He had good intentions, and a good head on his shoulder. At least there is that.

"Let me help you unpack, miss."

The aged butler strolled casually to the bed, glanced at Force for affirmation, a nod indicating she was fine with him touching her things. Then he began to unpack. The spare clothing, hung up in the closet. Any books, stacked neatly on the bedside table. The backpack itself, hung behind a chair that sat facing the curtained windows. He was efficient, surprisingly dexterous for a man his age. When he was done, he looked appraisingly around the room.

"I hope you find this satisfactory, miss Force."

Alfred knew why Master Bruce had entrusted Force to him. Yes, he was brilliant. A mastermind. The world's greatest detective and Gotham's hero. But he would never be able to fully understand the intricacies of raising a young girl, especially in a household of men. He would never be able to glean, like he was able to from the criminals he fought, what the girl desired and why she was unhappy. But Alfred had raised him and would know better. He would see in an instant if anything ever bothered the girl. If there was anyone he could trust with such an endeavor, it was Alfred.

[Deleted]

All Phoebe really knows about Bruce Wayne is that he's some form of rich guy with his name on lots of buildings and stuff. And that only really because she's been in Gotham for awhile now - if it weren't for that, she'd have probably had to have been reminded to really remember the name. Billionaires just aren't that interesting to most little girls except perhaps to those with some vague notion that it might be nice to marry one, and Phoebe is not one of those. So she's not at all familiar with his reputation, and the way that he's acting right now makes perfect sense to her - still Batman, but much significantly less intense in the comfort of his own home.

There's a slight pause after his statement before she comments, "Well, a lot safer than at Wulfen's place." Nope, she's not about to be reassured that she's safe. Actually, in one sense she's pretty safe no matter where she is - she's supremely able to defend herself. And the type of people who can defeat her defense are more likely to want her alive. No, it's not her safety that she's concerned about so much as her freedom and ability to choose her own future. She knows that she's hard to control - she's a Force unto herself - but she knows that it's possible.

Her attention shifts to her backpack when Alfred offers to help her with it, and she nods. There isn't much inside: one spare change of clothing, some assorted toiletries... She didn't have much when she moved into Wulfen's place, and didn't leave with much more. It's actually telling in a few ways about her, as these practical bare essentials indicate that she knows precisely which items are most necessary - not something most ten year-olds stop to consider.

There's only one item in the backpack that's at all personal: a doll. And not an especially nice-looking one, as it's beat up enough to indicate many years of wear and probably wasn't that nice of one to begin with. Yet the moment it appears in Alfred's hand she takes it from him with her telekinesis and pulls it to her, depositing it into her lap with just as much ease as if she had a third (albeit invisible) hand performing the movement. She actually doesn't consciously realize that she's just used her powers in an obvious way in front of Alfred until she does so, and she gives him a sheepish grin and says, "Um, sorry Alfred, that was me." Oh well, it's not like she wanted to hide that from him anyway - it would have been a pain. She's very, very comfortable with her powers, and usually only remembers to use them discreetly if she's in public.

When he's finished, she comments, "Before this I was on a couch, so this is really, really satisfactory. Thanks." She gives him a smile, though her attention shifts very quickly back to Batman and her expression becomes pensive. While Alfred may be the better man to go to for a lot of things, there are some thoughts that have been absolutely hounding her lately that she knows would be better addressed by the man who chose to be what Batman is. The really hard part is figuring out exactly how to say what she wants to.

"Um, I don't know if this is an okay question for me to ask," she starts, somewhat hesitant but forging ahead, "But why are you Batman?" Why is she asking? So many reasons... Victor never really explained to her why he became Wulfen, but... well, that wasn't exactly hard to figure out once you got to know a few other things about him and it's a confusing, strange, and altogether unhelpful reason.

[vigilant]

Bruce and Alfred gleaned certain characteristics regarding Force, simply from the content of the backpack. Each for different reasons. Bruce saw because he was Bruce. The obsession with detail, the eye for picking apart infinitesimal nuances, and the unparalleled talent with stringing clue unto clue, until it formed a whole puzzle. It was in his very blood, passed on from his late father... Alfred, on the other hand, had his own unique background prior to serving the Wayne family. But other than that, you don't raise a boy like Bruce Wayne on your own, and not learn how to read between the lines, to listen to the unspoken language of the heart. Then there was Dick, followed shortly after by Jason. Now Tim. Alfred was honed by experience. Something that Bruce himself might be lacking.

"Don't worry, miss. When you've been around Master Bruce as long as I have, you'll have seen your fair share of... eccentrics."

The butler smiled at Bruce. Yes, he was shocked to find the doll drifting suddenly out of his hand, bobbing through the air to land in the girl's open palms. But few things surprised him now, and if they did, they would rarely do so for long. You learn to cope, when night after night, you find yourself sleeping lightly, subconsciously listening for signs of your master's return, hoping that that all would be well. But never knowing for sure, and some nights actually having to face the predicament of appearing calm while bandaging broken ribs.

"Most of which, I suspect, has taken place in this very household..."

There was an underlying current of fondness in Bruce's tone. It was nothing blatant. Nothing most people would ever hear or suspect. But Force would. She'd understand that, in a way, Alfred was like a father to him. His shelter when the world outside became too much to bear. But when she asked her question, he snapped to attention, and the steely coldness returned to his eyes. He was Batman again, and though his tone remained pleasant, even conversational, his expression had hardened.

"...Because I believe, sincerely, that I can change the way of things. That is why I am Batman."

[Deleted]

Nodding a little in understanding - while she's not familiar with what goes on in this particular household, she's seen her fair share of 'eccentrics' herself - Phoebe finds herself growing more comfortable. She's met plenty of people who view her as highly abnormal and strange, but whether she is or not she certainly doesn't like being treated that way. And it looks like she won't be having that problem here.

Though when she senses the feeling of a particular bond between the two men, her mood grows more quiet. She used to have a relationship kind of like that before... It was for the best that she left, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't miss who she left behind. Fortunately, the answer to her question distracts her from dwelling on the lonely feeling.

She ponders that for a moment, frowning at the doll in her hands in thought before she comments, "My problem is that I know that I can change the way of things. But... I don't know if I should. I mean, sometimes it's easy to know what the right thing to do is. But sometimes it's really hard. And I'm strong enough that when I make a mistake, it's a really big mistake. People got hurt because of me. But they get hurt when I don't help them too."

[vigilant]

"Sometimes you just have to take a chance..."

Bruce's eyes were distant, and his voice quiet. He touched a hand briefly to his chest, a casual gesture to the average onlooker. But perhaps Force would recognize that it was the exact spot where the Batman insignia would be, if he wore his armor. The same insignia that laid, no more than three inches from his heart. Perhaps it was a symbol. Perhaps it was Batman's way of saying: as long as I live, I will protect Gotham with my life. Everything I am and everything I ever will be, from this day onward, will be pledged to the city of my birth.

"And hope..."

Hope. A strange word. One that his lips had trouble forming around, as though it was rarely ever said. Perhaps so. In Batman's world, there was no hope. There was no leap of faith. Only planned contingencies and detailed operations. Always two steps ahead of the best, ten steps above the average. To say 'hope', to lay his life on something as fickle as 'faith', would be to throw everything he had to chance. To be a plank drifting helplessly through sea. In Batman's world, there was only logic and reason. There was only the keen, razor-sharp instrument known as intellect.

"...that you're right."

Alfred turned his gaze worriedly towards Bruce. Not that he'd ever show it. Alfred always appeared calm. Apathetic. Stoic. But he recognized the look on his young master's face. The same brooding look of despair that had plagued his features for years... Nearly three decades, since that night. It made Bruce look older. Not that anyone would notice. All they saw was his foppish, playboy attitude. Alfred loathed it. It placed a stain on the Wayne household's dignity, and worse of all, the old butler knew better than anybody that Bruce was nothing like the womanizing airhead he made himself out to be.

“Miss Force, if you don’t mind… The late Master Wayne always said the first and most fundamental rule is always: do no harm.”

He shot a glance at Bruce, who had risen from his seat to stand by the window. Maybe Force wouldn’t see it [though she certainly might hear it], but Alfred did. Master Bruce seemed strained. There was a pull to his jaw, a tightness to his eyes. He was tumbling down the proverbial rabbit hole again, for the twenty million time since then.

[Deleted]

When Batman starts to speak, Phoebe eyes turn to him and she watches him carefully, but not as carefully as she listens to his thoughts. They cause her to purse her lips in a slight frown, but she doesn't say anything directly in response to it. What could she say, anyway?

Though her attention shifts momentarily to Alfred when he speaks, though his words cause a more distinctive frown. "I don't harm anyone on purpose," is all that she says in response. But that's easy. What about all the spots that she keeps getting put into where she has to choose something and can't tell beforehand if what she chooses will harm someone?

She sighs to herself, looking back over at Batman as he stands and goes to the window. She remains put, but is looking at him when she says, "I wish I was like the other kids I've met who think that adults know everything instead of knowing how many times they're just guessing." There's a momentary pause before she adds, "But all of the bad guys I've met are scared of Batman, even if they're not scared of the police or the FBI or even if they say that they're not scared. So at least what you do is different." That's about as good of a perspective as she can lend to this turn of the conversation.

Having said that, she turns to Alfred and comments, "It's past my bedtime, and Agent Stevens always said that everything gets five times more complicated when you should be asleep." Of course, Phoebe was fully aware that her guardian only said that to get her to stop talking and go to bed, but she suspects that there's some merit to that statement.

[vigilant]

Bruce didn't want to speak anymore. It wasn't just that he was beyond exhausted, or that his schedule was booked with meetings with corporate. All those things he had endured for years, and more. It was that he felt naked, vulnerable, in front of her. Yes, he knew that she was just a little girl, that it wasn't likely she'd intend to use what she learned against him. But still... He could never be too careful. Or, perhaps that wasn't the reason he was bothered. For years, Batman has been a menace to Gotham's most hardened criminals. He was a symbol; mystical, omniscient, and almighty. The Bat insignia emblazed across his chest had immortalized him. To Gotham, he wasn't human. But here, in this sparsely decorated room, with Force reading his mind and Alfred knowing his mind, he was human. A creature of flesh and blood; fallible, beatable...

"Rest. You will need it."

It was Batman's voice now. Low, guttural, growling. It wasn't the voice he used to interrogate criminals. But it was definitely Batman. Perhaps that was his way of creating walls between them; walls and distance and oceans. Perhaps even without the cowl, Batman was just a matter of who he chose to be. A switch he could flick on and off. Or, maybe, he was really Batman, and Bruce was the mask. Whatever it was, he went striding out the room, with Alfred following close behind. The door was closed with a soft thump, followed by the pitter-patter of footsteps down the spiral staircases, then silence.

Rest. Yes. She would need it.