#Talia (tired): They’re the same age and Father can only get his tea from them- the plants are otherwise extinct

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 329

Bruce was admittedly suspicious when Talia requests a meeting, and is admittedly still upset with the entire hiding Damian’s existence from him for literal years. But he also admits that he just… has to take a moment. 

“Run that by me again please?” He had to have misheard, right? Or gotten drugged by something maybe. 

Talia sighs, sounding just as tired as he felt. “Father’s tea supplier has moved to Gotham after an argument, and he wishes to discuss the agreement of him not entering the city- to speak with said vendor.” 

[gmcfloppins]

Mirror Memoirs  The real Chapter Seven

Have some angst.

February 14, 1918. The birthday I spent in relative quarantine.

I lay on the bed in Mark’s family’s guest bedroom, reading a book Mr. James told me to read, called The Return of the Soldier. I guess he figured it would help me cope with what I was going through.

I hated the book. It reminded me of things I didn’t want to think about. So I lay there, in a guest bed, wearing boys clothes, and reading an expensive imported assigned book. The clothes, actually, weren’t as bad as I had expected. They couldn’t hold a candle to my dresses, but they were rather comfortable.

There was a knock on the door. “Miss Connor, your lunch.”

“Thank you,” I replied to the maid. I waited until I heard her walk away before I went to open the door and take the tray. It was a sandwich, same as it had been for the last ten days, with some sort of fruit and tea. Today, however, there was an extra plate with a cover on it.

I had a guess as to what it was, and I was hesitant to lift the cover.

A small cake, white-frosted, with a sugar rose on top.

I couldn’t stop the tears. They simply burned in my eyes until falling onto my lap.

It was a very kind gesture, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want to spend my birthday stuck in a room, potentially very sick, away from my Papa, and Jacob, and Scott, and Eddie being across the sea. I just wanted to go home.

February 23, 1918. I had almost resigned to never leaving the room.

I never got mail from home, surprisingly. They were just across the street. School was tiring. I had nothing to do but read, and, frankly, I was bored out of my skull.

There was a knock on the door.

I sat on the bed, reading the same page for the tenth time in a row.

The knock repeated. “Talia?”

I jumped up, surprised. I hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice in over half a month. I ran over to the door as he opened it, jumping into his arms. We both fell to the floor, holding on to each other tightly.

“Damn, I missed you,” He mumbled, squeezing me. After a moment, he loosened his grip, and I pulled back. “I’m so sorry you had to stay so long.”

I stood, and he followed suit. “Is Scott…?”

“He’s been moved back to the hospital. He’s currently in quarantine, and they’re hoping he’ll get better.” He grabbed my hand. “Papa and I, by some incredible miracle, only had it for a week or so. Have you been coughing at all, Tali?”

I shook my head no as we started out of the house, and a small smile found its way onto his face.

“Good. That’s brilliant.” He waved a thank you to the maids as we left, and they nodded. “Now, Papa thinks it might be better for you to go straight home. I think that’s best, too.”

“But Scott-”

“Would kill me if I let you get sick, too.”

He took me across the street and back into my home. It smelled of ammonia all over, except for my room. The windows were wide open, letting in sunlight and a slight chill. Fresh flowers sat on my desk.

After getting changed into my own clothes, I went back downstairs. I knew the way to the hospital. It was around three when I left, and it was starting getting dark as I approached the hospital.

A nurse on her way home opened the door for me, giving me a strange look as she did so. I ignored her, making my way over to the front desk. I stood on the tips of my toes just so I could see the nurse shuffling her files around. She stopped, noticing me.

“Why, hello there, little girl,” She said, smiling over the desk at me. “What brings you here tonight?”

“I’m not a little girl, I’m eight years old! And I’m looking for my brother.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you, Miss!” Her smile grew, amused. “Who’s your brother?”

“Him name is Scott, and he’s got floppy yellow hair and glasses. Papa and Jacob said he’s really sick, but I haven’t seen him in weeks and I miss him a lot.”

I wasn’t an idiot. I knew she thought I was cute. It was wrong, but I was determined to use that to my advantage. So, as all children trying to get their way do, I summoned tears.

“He just got back from fighting, and-and…” I sniffed, wiping my eyes.

“Oh, darling, don’t cry!” The nurse rushed from behind the desk to give me a hug. “What’s your last name, dear?”

“C-connor,” I hiccuped. If I had not gotten a law degree, I might have made it on the silver screen.

She grabbed her folders, searching and mumbling frantically for Scott’s information. As soon as she had it, she walked back around the desk.

“Alright, dear,” She got down to my eye level. “Now, I’m not supposed to be doing this, but I won’t tell if you won’t.” She handed me a slip of paper. “He’s in this room. I believe it’s on the third floor. Can you find it yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I wiped the rest of my tears away on my sleeve.

“Good luck, dear.” She smiled, patting my cheek gently, and went back to work as I started towards and up the stairs.

My legs were tired, but I believe I had never run faster in my life than when I ran up those stairs and through that hall on the third floor.

I skidded to a stop in front of the doorway. In the room, I could see rows of curtains and beds. I slowly walked in, pulling on a mask from a box labeled “unused”.

There were so many beds, but not all of them were occupied. In fact, half were empty. I felt the sudden urge to run, to get out as fast as I could before I got sick, too.

“Scott?” I asked, before I lost all nerve.

I heard a bed creaking in one of the curtained sections ahead of me, and I ran towards it. But the person in that section was old, dark-skinned, and wasting away.

“You’re...not Scott….” I started backing away as he looked at me.

The man nodded before bursting into a coughing fit. He turned away, covering his mouth, even though he was wearing a mask. He grabbed a handkerchief and, pulling his mask away, spat something bright red into it. He put his mask on again and turned back to me.

“I’m Mr. Comano,” He said. He stuck out his hand, but pulled back. “Sorry. Don’t want you to get sick.” He shuffled in his bed. “Yer lookin’ for Scott, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded, folding my hands behind my back.

“You must be ‘is l’il sister, then?”

I nodded again.

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but as soon as he got here, he fell asleep. He’s been sleepin’ since. Sickness musta tired ‘im out.”

“I just want to see him.”

Mr. Comano stood. “A’right, follow me, then.” He started walking slowly, laboriously, towards the end of the curtain. “It’s just a few more rows down.”

“Alright.” I grabbed his hand as he led me. While he was startled, he didn’t pull away.

“I’m not gonna lie to ya. A soldier like Scott? His chances are slim, l’il sister. Ya just gotta keep up yer hope, though.” He looked down at me. “If you’re all smiles, he’ll be all smiles, see?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Comano laughed. “I ain’t been called sir in a long time. I see no reason for you t’start now.”

I grinned under my mask.

He stopped at the end of a row. “A’right, baby. He’s right in there. He might be awake by now, but I doubt it.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Comano.” I smiled up at him, even though it was hidden by the mask. He smiled back, letting me go, and went back to his own little section.

I peeked behind the curtain, where Scott was, indeed, asleep. His glasses were on his nightstand, next to a picture of our family. I picked it up.

It was mother, holding a newborn version of me. I was asleep for that photo, and she was smiling. Papa had his arm around her, and a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He was about twelve at that time. Scott and Jacob, ages eleven and ten, were sitting on the floor, holding teddy bears.

I bristled slightly as someone grabbed my hand, startling me.

“Sorry,” Scott whispered, slightly amused. “That is my tiny Tali, right?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Scott pushed himself up, grunting a little in pain. “What’re you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you in weeks. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Talia…” He squinted, as his glasses were still on the nightstand. “What time is it?”

“It’s about six in the evening.”

“Is Papa here?”

“No.”

Scott chuckled. “You’ll miss supper.” He grabbed my hand again. “Jeezums, I’m going to miss you.”

This grabbed my attention. “Miss me? Where are you going?”

“Oh, some smelly sanatorium.” He shrugged, swinging my hand. “I’ll be back, though. As soon as I’m well again, I’m coming home.” He smiled at me. “I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

“But….” I looked down, my fear returning. “But what if you don’t come back?”

Scott nodded slowly, thoughtfully. He leaned back against the headboard. “Hmm….” His silver, bruised-looking eyes found their way back to mine. “I guess, if I don’t come back, then I’ll owe you an apology.” He leaned towards me again, a few small, pained lines appearing under his eyes. “I love you so much, Talia. If I don’t come back, then I’m sorry that I won’t be there for you. I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you transition into the person you want to be.” He cleared his throat. “If I don’t come back, I’m so sorry I won’t be able to protect you from the people who tell you that you can’t. Believe me, you can. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Then you’ll get better?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know. I’m not you. I can’t do everything.”

I sniffled, a few tears burning in my eyes.

“Oh, Tali.” He pulled me close. “I can’t do everything, not like this. But if I could do anything, I would chase away your tears until forever.”

Someone ran into the long room. “Talia!” Papa shouted, running towards us. Scott pulled back quickly.

“Papa, don’t be too mad, I-” He started, but Papa scooped me up in his arms.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, quite loudly.

I was emotional, more so than normal, on that day. I had too many things going on at once, and it all just escaped through my eyes as I sobbed in my father’s arms. I was vaguely aware of him taking me out of the hospital and putting me in the back seat of the family automobile. Mr. O’Brien drove us home, but I really didn’t want to go home.

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Tags: @beesartandstuffs