Chapter Text
It has been said that when a person is on the verge of death, their brain shows various memories of their life for seven minutes. Seven minutes of beautiful, happy memories that marked your life.
From the moment you gave the wailing, shocking cry as the cold air of the outside world hit your wrinkly, red skin, fresh out of the womb, until the very last few moments, you keep on fighting to keep air down your lungs, and your heart slowly stops pumping blood into your veins.
A way of welcoming the end of your life peacefully, if you can see it that way.
Most people become cynical when it comes to the end of the cycle of life. Either for loss of faith or not wanting to think about what comes after it.
It’s probably because of fear.
No, it’s definitely because of fear.
Everyone is afraid of what happens when you cross to the other side. That’s a fact. A human fact.
That’s why the seven minutes are such a comforting idea. Seeing all the good things you have lived before going away into a black abyss of uncertainty.
A last ray of warm light.
(Y/N) Wayne doesn’t get her seven minutes.
Well, not her own seven minutes. From the moment her body sank to the bottom of the water, Wayne knew her seven minutes would not be of warm, happy memories.
They would be of dark, cold hallways. Empty chairs on her birthday table. Short excuses and empty apologies for any type of tournament they didn’t assist. Cold shoulders and annoyed stares whenever she spoke or asked ‘dumb’ questions.
Her dad’s empty silence. Dick’s soft avoidance. Jason’s burning anger. Tim’s sharp cut-offs. Damian’s freezing hatred.
Perhaps Death would allow her to have Alfred’s warming smiles and compassion. Maybe even the sweet melody of her mother’s humming voice as she lay on that small bed in the asylum.
Instead, she gets seven minutes of a complete acid trip.
A small town with overly nice people.
A woman and a man who are completely in love with one another. A house that changes from black and white to color, the furniture changing with the decades.
Two babies, twins, a girl and a boy.
The rush of the wind against her skin as she runs in a complete sugar rush with a man with silver hair, and then the woman saying, ‘If she were to break the sound barrier, she would take her brother with her.'
A huge fight with blows of red and purple and guns, ending with a warm family hug with the twins, a Scarlet Witch, and an android with a soul.
A good night scene, the woman kisses each of them on the forehead before turning the lights off.
The boy crawls into the girl’s bed, and both of them hold to each other tightly as their world crumbles around them in a red dome.
‘Good night,---’
‘Good night, Billy.’
That name gets stuck in her brain as life slips away from her lungs. It echoes in a gentle, childish voice as it grows farther and farther away. Just like the air bubbles escaping from her mouth and nose.
‘A twin,’ a final thought muses.
‘I always wanted a twin.’
‘Please, let me have that life next time.’
‘Please, let it be–’
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“Billy!”
Those are the words (Y/N) Maximoff tried to say as her mouth graggled and vomited all the water from inside her lungs once she fought to remain afloat in the deep, dark water. The left side of her head throbbed like hell, making her dizzy and tired while swimming in a puppy-like style on her right side to finally reach the edge of the nasty pool she woke up in.
Climbing it was another gigantic chore, but she refused to remain on the murky (read as definitely contaminated) water any longer.
Coughing up her guts and wheezing for air while drenched in nasty water and bleeding wound on the head was so going to the ‘Situations I Never Wish To Repeat Ever in My Life’ list.
It would be the only one on it, but with the way things are looking at the moment, she is pretty sure that list is only going to keep growing.
She lay on her right side once she no longer felt like she was choking. Or maybe because her adrenaline finally crashed, and her strength just gave up.
Taking deep breaths, the situation began to sink in.
She was supposed to be dead. Gone. Kaput!
Or at least that’s what she thought. All that she remembers is Billy.
Half of her, never too far away. Always together. It’s how it is supposed to be.
Billy is not here. She is alone.
Alone. Cold. Wet. Hurt.
Did she mention being wet? She hates being wet. She hates how heavy it makes her clothes (a uniform, from what she could see?). She hates how cold it makes her skin. She hates how it reminds her of the empty floating space she was held in before Billy brought her back.
Took him long enough! Billy knows how much she hates empty dark places.
With a groan, she sits up on the cold concrete, her wet figure leaving an imprint of water forming her silhouette as if it were a murder scene. All that was left was the white tape, the thought of it making her snort.
She came to regret it once the wound on her head gave a sharp ping of pain, almost as if her body was punishing her for thinking such morbid things.
Wincing as her hand went up to touch where the wound was throbbing. The groan that was about to come out turned into a rough cough once her fingers came up bloody.
Her fingertips rubbed the clogged blood between them, eyes moving from them to look around her.
It was an abandoned place. By the looks of it, back in its former glory, it would have been a public pool. The sun chairs were all broken, rusted, and twisted in ways that left the tubes looking like some abstract sculpture. Some umbrellas were scattered around; either closed, open, or broken in various degrees.
The pool was still filled with water, if you call it that. It was a deep green that switched between brown and black depending on which angle you looked from.
A wired fence surrounded the place, with some noticeable holes that indicated people would sneak in to do graffiti, drink, or smoke if the clear signs on the walls and scattered around the floor weren’t enough.
A wave of nausea came over her as she looked back again at the pool. She scattered on her knees as quickly as possible to empty her stomach once again on an overgrown bush by the fence.
She clung to the fence, finally gathering the strength to stand on her feet. Shivers went down her spine at the feeling of her socks squashing water on her pretty much ruined school shoes. Her head hung for a few moments, her head ringing from all that transpired in the last few minutes.
Billy. She needed to find Billy.
He has all the answers. She was a hundred percent sure he was the one who put her here. Not sure why he left her on her own and hurt, and drowning in a pool that pretty much looks like the dark plague made in a liquid, but he would explain. He has an answer for everything. Always. And he will probably know where M–...
Her head suddenly went blank. As if it were a clean slate that left her in a dazed state. Once it was over, a groan of pain was heard from her, a splitting headache forming behind her eyeballs.
…Wait. What was she thinking?
…
Billy. She has to find Billy.
She clung to that name, scrunching down a hole in the fence big enough for her to slip out. A few loose wires scrape against her uniform and legs. One even managed to snag at her skirt once she stood up fully on the other side.
Grumbling under her breath, she took the now broken cloth and finished ripping it off.
‘Now she has an improvised bandage!’ A very animated thought came to her mind, making her smile pleasantly.
Thankfully, the blood stopped flowing a while back, so wiping the residue wasn’t that bad. She was a little bit hesitant to use it as a bandage due to it being soaked with the water of the pool, but she had no other choice.
Either get an infection or walk around looking like a murder victim.
“Infection it is,” she muttered while moving her hair away from her left temple and wrapping the cloth around her head.
She probably looked like Rambo if he were a pathetic wet child.
“Now, which way should I go?” she wondered out loud as she looked around the alleyway. The building walls were too tall to see beyond them, and the sky was already turning pretty dark.
Walking carefully as she used the brick wall as support, the next thing that came into view was a busy street.
People are going from side to side, not even giving a spare glance at others. Some are on their phones scrolling or on calls. Others simply walk while staring at a destination but never at another person. Men, women, kids, teens, of all ages.
Nobody spared a glance at her.
Which is honestly the best scenario from her point of view. No time to delay in her search.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” a gruff voice asked from her side.
Busted!
She moved her head to the side to look at the man. Tall, a bit round, but more like a dad bod. Grey brown hair on the side, along with a mustache. Old-fashioned glasses and a thick coat with an insignia on the left side.
A police insignia.
‘Stand down!’ ‘Handle the military, I’ll be right back!’ ‘Nice tricks.’ ‘Like yours too-'
Voices scattered around her head in flashes. She didn’t see who was saying them, only blurry silhouettes of color moving around before she was brought back to the present moment.
She took a step back. The man frowned. Not in anger, but it looked like worry.
His gaze moved over her, checking her until he reached her face. Then he looked almost shocked for a moment.
Or was I something else?
“Wayne? What are you doing all the way down here? And alone?” He began tossing questions as he took another step closer and grasped her shoulder gently but firmly.
‘So it was a worried expression, got it.’
“What happened? You’re soaked to the bone!” He took off his coat and wrapped it around her. It was way bigger on her, but she couldn’t complain about the warmth it brought her. She hadn’t realized how cold she actually was.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mention it, dear girl. But you haven’t answered my question, Wayne.” His voice turned a bit firm.
Damn. What was she supposed to say? And who the hell was Wayne?!
“Um, I don’t remember?” She lifted her shoulders with an awkward smile.
The best thing to do when you get caught by the police is to always act dumb. Or pretend amnesia. Which isn’t that far away from the truth, but hey, A win is a win!
The man frowned, rubbing his temples as his glasses knocked up to his head with a sigh. An exasperated one. Then he took a deep breath and began to move her by the shoulders and start walking.
“You obviously got a wound on the head, so it could be a concussion. I’m driving you to the station so the Doc can check on you, alright?”
He asks as if she had a choice, which she clearly didn’t.
But she let him walk her to the patrol car. Weighing her options, this was the better choice. Her main plan was asking around for Billy and maybe even climbing into the ceiling of a building and yelling for him…
She wasn’t the best at planning. Sue her.
Now, she has better options. At the police station, she could get a change of clothes (maybe even get a quick shower if she begs?), get her wound checked out and also find information on where Billy is. All of that before they find out she is not whoever this Wayne person is.
Three birds in one shot! (Hopefully four birds. She stinks like a sewer rat.)
“Can I sound the alarm?!” She asks as soon as both of them get in the car.
He looks a bit startled at the sudden excitement. Even a bit off-putting. But he just shakes his head with a quiet laugh and shows her the switch.
“Just wait until we get to-“
The alarm started blasting at full volume along with manic squealing.
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“Yes, thank you so much for the call. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
The old phone clicks the end of the call, and a moment of silence is interrupted with a sigh from Alfred as he walks away to gather his coat and keys from the car. He is grateful the call came in just as he finished seasoning the dinner for the night.
The boys are grown enough to know where the utensils and plates are to serve themselves. He doesn’t know how long this would take, and traffic in Gotham is a living nightmare.
But before leaving, he made a quick detour through the manor. His destination: the master’s office. He had to be informed about this.
Even if it has been years since he actually made an effort for Lady (Y/N).
The young lady of the house has always been deemed a quiet presence by the members of the family. Keeping her thoughts and opinions to herself. Polite and well-mannered. Willing to do any type of chore if it meant having at least someone to notice her.
A greeting word, a gentle touch, or even a warm hug. But all of that was for nothing.
She wasn't deemed loud enough amongst her peers to matter.
But to Alfred, she was the loudest presence to ever set foot in Wayne Manor. It was almost sad how deaf the rest of the family was when it came to (Y/N).
Three sharp knocks on the door were enough for Master Bruce to let him enter the office. The curtains were already closed, almost giving a dark atmosphere if it weren't for the warm light lamps on his desk and by the corners of the room.
Master Bruce didn't even lift his head from the documents he was reviewing.
"Is something wrong, Alfred?" his deep, tired voice rumbling in the air as he switched documents. The sounds of papers being moved around made Alfred frown for a second.
Always a messy man when it comes to papers, that's why he does everything in that blasted computer in the cave.
"Yes, Master Wayne," he cleared his throat before continuing. "Dinner is ready, but hasn't been served. The young masters can serve themselves while I go to the police station to pick up the young mistress."
Silence.
"...The police station?"
His tone remained the same. As if talking about the weather. It irked Alfred how his master didn't seem to react accordingly to the situation.
"Yes. Chief Gordon was the one to call. Said he found Lady (Y/N) wandering around by herself at Grant Park. Completely drenched and out of it. He mentioned she was getting checked by their doctor in case she got a concussion."
Master Bruce took a few moments to finally lift his gaze from the papers. Alfred had spent many years with Bruce, but sometimes he couldn't place what his master's nonverbal actions meant. Just like right now.
"...Bring her. I'll talk to her later." his gaze turned down once again.
Alfred nodded and left the office without another word until her reached the car. Once he closed the driver's door, he let out a very deep and exhausted sigh.
He could feel the disappointment flowing up inside. It felt almost like failure. Failure for not being able to drag Bruce by the ear and make him drive to the station. For not having the audacity to scream at him for how he acts towards his flesh and blood.
Anger at himself for not being able to do more for his young mistress.
As Alfred began to drive through the gates of the manor, he took notice of how the sky had already turned dark.
But what stood out was the quick flash of green and silver striking in between the black clouds. It was gone in just a second, the loud rumbling of thunder almost making the car windows shake.
He couldn't help but feel like it was some kind of omen.
Good or bad, that was to be determined.
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