Why We're Here

Up , Up, And Away

My leg nervously bounced up and down. I could barely contain myself, I felt as if I were going to explode. The mystery that had plagued me for as long as I can remember was about to be resolved.
I was going to know who my biological parents were.
They could be anyone. Hell, I could be the lost daughter of The Joker. Or Penguin. Or even Superman. They could be aliens or humans, rich or poor, good or bad, the possibilities were endless.
"Lucy, calm down," Dick shook his head, "You're making the entire car shake."
I grabbed my knees, doing my best to sturdy them, "I'm sorry, I can't help it."
"Don't be nervous, this is a happy thing," Clara leaned forward from the back seat to smile at me.
Dick had volunteered to drive us to the airport. As annoying as he could be, he did have his moments. I mean, he wasn't my best friend for nothing.
"I can't not be nervous," I replied, "I've always wondered who my parents are. What if they're bad guys? What if I'm the kid of Lex Luthor or something? The Joker!"
Dick laughed, "Come on, now you're just going overboard."
"It's a fair possibility!"
"Worrying will only make you suffer twice," Clara place a hand on my shoulder.
Dick smiled reassuringly. I buried my face in my hands and groaned. They were right, but I couldn't help it. I felt like I was about to explode.
The airport loomed into view. Dick drove up to the drop off and stopped the car. All three of us got out. Clara and I got our luggage, which wasn't much, and Dick closed the trunk. Turning to me, he smiled, "Good luck, Lu."
"Thanks, Dick."
I wrapped my arms around his torso. He hugged back. When we separated, I grinned at him, "I'll get you the shittiest tourist shirt I can find."
"Looking forward to it."
For quite some time, it had been a tradition between us to find the other the worst tourist shit possible wherever we went. One time, Dick and Bruce had gone to California and he brought me back a tie-dye tank top with a torn up back. On the front it read, "Someone who loves me very much went to California and all they brought back was this shitty shirt."
"See you later, Dickie," I smiled.
Dick fake saluted, "See you, sis, Clara."
"Bye."
With that, Dick returned to his car and drove off. I watched him go for a moment. Part of me wished he were going with me, but he had Nightwing duties. I was lucky that Clara was willing to go with me. At least I wasn't alone.
Clara and I went into the terminal. Our flight left in half an hour, giving us enough time to get through security. As we did, my brain went wild. I began to dream up a million and one different things my parents could be. I went from villains to Gods to superheroes.
Most likely they were just normal people, but my anxiety refused to believe that. It would be just my luck that I'm the daughter of a supervillain. Or, even worse, the man who killed my adoptive parents.
By the time we made it through security, I was on the verge of a panic attack. I've faced supervillains with a smile, but the concept of knowing where I truly came from was beyond terrifying.
"Lucy, you're hyperventilating," Clara moved to stand in front of me and grab my shoulders, "Take a deep breath and calm down."
I did as she told me, but my exhale was shaky. Clara breathed with me, trying to get me to follow her lead, but I couldn't. Ultimately, she pulled me into an embrace, "We've still got a while until we get there, freaking out won't do any of us any good."
"I know, I'm sorry," I buried my face in her neck, "I'm just nervous."
"Don't be. You'll find out your parents are the greatest people in the world. Maybe you'll even find out you're the daughter of Superman."
"That's what I'm afraid of," I whispered, quiet enough so she couldn't hear me.
***
After an eleven hour flight and six hour train ride, we finally arrived in Agia, Greece. It was a small town built into a hill. Some of the houses were rundown and abandoned, others were beautiful and habitable. People smiled at us as we passed.
"What does the map say?" Clara asked.
I furrowed my brow, "I don't know, it's in Greek."
Bruce had insisted that Dick and I become fluent in at least four languages. Dick had already known some Spanish and Italian. I knew Latin and a few words in German. He made us fluent in those as well as Mandarin and Chinese.
"Let me see," Clara took the map from me, "I know a bit from my time with my Aunt."
I lifted an eyebrow, "I thought your Aunt lived in Italy."
"She moved there from Greece a year ago."
Clara flipped the map over and scanned the pages. I peered over her shoulder, my arm still wrapped with hers.
"If we keep going North, we should hit it," she said, "This says it's at the base of the mountain."
The mountain was a few miles away. I huffed, "Yay, walking."
"Hey, this is your journey to find your past."
"I know, but walking is boring."
I wished I had my grappling wire, or even the Batcycle. Of course, those were tools used by Blitz, not Lucille Brimsey.
Clara and I began the trek to the mountain. We passed by many different buildings and many different people. Some tried to sell us things, others told us to have a good day.
The people here weren't like Gotham's citizens. They didn't walk in terror, or search the rooftops for a glimpse at a cape. They were kind to each other, rather than avoiding eye contact. This entire city was nicer than Gotham.
The mountain cast a huge shadow on us as we made our way to the foot of it. It seemed like it was deciding my fate. I gulped, doing my best to swallow my anxiety.
At the base of the mountain, a run down building stood. The green paint on the door had begun to peel, and bricks were falling off. Part of the roof was covered in a blue tarp. It looked like a church straight out of a horror movie. On the front, a sunbleached sign read 'Virgin Mary's Home For Wayward Children'.
"It seems more like a dump than a home," Clara muttered.
I gulped, "Hopefully someone's here."
The two of us made our way to the door. Hesitantly, I knocked. The paint flaked off as I hit the wood. I could hear the echo on the other side, followed by footsteps. Quickly, the door was opened by an elderly nun.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice gravelly.
I wrung my hands together, "Yes, my name is Lucille Brimsey. Nineteen years ago I was left here by my biological parents."
The woman stared at me for a moment. I became nervous that she wouldn't know what I was talking about. A light crossed her face, "Brimsey, I know that name. Yes, I remember you."
She reached forward and patted my cheek. It was a bit odd, but I let her. She gestured for us to come inside. She lead Clara and I to an office, where we sat on one side of a crumbling desk.
"You must forgive the state of the place," the woman shakily sat down, "After you and your sister were-er-dropped off, we didn't get any children. I'm the last one left."
My eyes widened, "Wait just a second, sister?!"
"Your sister, Judice."
There was something this woman was leaving out, I could sense it, but I was to enthralled to ask. I actually had a sister.
"Was she younger? Older?"
"You were twins."
I laughed. Clara smiled at me. I leaned forward in the chair, "Where is she now? I have to find her!"
"I am sorry, dear," the nun shook her head, "We got word that poor Judice was killed just six years after you two were adopted. A tragic accident took the lives of her entire family."
I fell back in my chair, deflated. Clara patted my shoulder comfortingly.
"What about my biological parents? Can you tell me their names?" I asked.
The nun shook her head, "You and your sister were dropped at our doorstep. I found you one morning with a note that only said your names."
A flash crossed the woman's eyes. There was something else, but she was reluctant to say. She kept glancing around warily, as if she expected me to explode.
"That's it?" I asked.
The nun smiled sadly, "I'm afraid so. I am sorry dear."
"What about files?" I asked, "Do you have any files on me or Judice?"
"We did, but the floods three years ago destroyed them all."
I pouted. The nun laced her fingers together, "You were adopted first, just mere weeks after you were dropped off. The Brimsey's, a lovely couple, didn't hesitate in adopting you. Said it might help fill a void in their life."
The nun shook her head. I knew she was talking about the death of my adopted brother, Eoin Brimsey.
"Most children spend at least a year in the orphanage before being adopted," The nun explained, "You were a miracle. I suppose The Brimsey's were in the right place at the right time."
What she was describing was a coincidence, and those never happened in my life. I raised an eyebrow, my mind running over her words. There was more, I could sense it.
"There's something you're not telling me," I gazed up at her, "What is it?"
She wrung her hands nervously, "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. You keep glancing around, you can't stop moving your hands, and your foot is tapping. Also, you're stuttering."
"I told you everything I know," the nun placed her palms on the desk, "I am a sick, old woman, and I don't have time for this. Please, get out of my house."
She pointed towards the door. I was ready to argue, to forcibly pull the truth from her, but Clara stopped me. She grabbed my elbow, pulled me up, and smiled at the nun, "Thank you for your help, ma'am."
The nun didn't reply. Clara held a tight grip on my elbow, practically dragging me out. I glanced back at the nun to see she had fallen back in her chair, rubbing her temples. When we were in the yard, Clara dropped my arm, "I'm sorry she didn't have all the answers, but you didn't have to be rude about it."
"She was hiding something," I argued, "I could see it."
"Or, you were misinterpreting it. She could be sick."
I didn't argue. We began to make our way back into town, towards the motel we would be staying at. The sun was setting and the world was beginning to wind down, but not me. My mind was wide awake.
That nun was definitely hiding something, all of my detective training told me that. The only question was what. There was a connection between my mysterious appearance at the convent and my Brimsey parents, that much was certain. I just had to figure out what it was.
Suddenly, Clara's hand fell out of mine. I spun to the side to see she had run head first into a middle-aged man. She fell on her bottom, rubbing her head and saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir."
I knelt next to her to check her out. The man spun around, "Watch where you're going."
"She said-"
I quickly stopped when I realized who I was looking at. I recognized the green robes, the half-head of hair, and the piercing eyes. I was looking at none other than Ra's Al Ghul.
"Oh shit," I whispered.
Ra's sneered, "Watch how you speak, little girl."
"Yeah, sorry," I replied, "We'll be more careful, Mister Gh-"
I stopped myself short of calling him by his name. Clara looked at me oddly as Ra's glared down, "What did you almost call me?"
Now, I had a decision to make. Either I called him by his real name, and risk exposing the entire operation, or I make something up and risk getting killed. Either way, it would end badly.
"Mister-um-Good Looking," I tried, smiling slightly.
Clara was beyond confused. Ra's sneered, but accepted the compliment. A hand appeared on his shoulder, followed by a woman appearing behind him, "Father, let's not waste time on these insolent children."
I resisted the urge to drop kick Talia Al Ghul. Ever since that one time she had nearly killed Barbara, I wanted to hit her every time I so much as thought of her. Now was not a good time, however. Talia lead her father away, leaving Clara and I on the path.
"What are they up to?" I muttered under my breath.
For them to be in such a small town, they had to be up to something. I made a mental note to tell Bruce when I got home. For now, I let Clara lead me to The Motel.