Before We Grow

Four Months Later

It's been four months. Four months since my near-death experience with The Joker, and four months since Bruce Wayne took me in. It's been the most amazing four months. I've gone on nightly patrols with Barbara, even facing off with Two Face. I've gotten to where I can take Dick down in a duel. Bruce says I have potential, but I could still improve.
    You would think this life would distract me from the grief, but it didn't. It's been seven months since that fateful day in Metropolis, and not a day goes by that I don't miss my parents. They were the only family I had, and losing them took a piece of me with them. Somehow, it feels as if they haven't rested well, meaning I haven't completed my mission.
    Bruce and Barbara have been trying to convince me that revenge is futile, but I won't listen. They're wrong, revenge is why I was left alive. Mama and Papa didn't die just because, there was a reason. I think Superman wanted to kill all three of us, but I lived specifically to avenge them. As soon as Superman was out of the picture, then I had a chance to finally put their souls to rest. I had to do it, but I had to get better first, and I had to convince Bruce to help me, though I know he never will.
    "Lucy, come on, you take forever," Dick moaned.
    We stood in the hallways of Gotham Academy. He leaned against the wall of lockers, right next to my open door. I shot him a glare.
    "I'm sorry," I replied, "I've only been here for thirty seconds."
    Thirty seconds too long."
    I rolled my eyes. Dick already had his satchel with his books, but mine were in the top shelf of my locker. Even with the slight lift my loafers gave me, I had trouble reaching them. Ultimately, Dick grabbed them for me.
    "You're welcome," he stated.
    I wrinkled my nose, "I could have gotten them."
    "Not in that skirt."
    The two of us laughed. We began to make our way to the front yard of the academy, where Alfred would be waiting to pick us up. From there, we would go back to The Manor, as usual.
    As we climbed down the steps, we passed a group of girls. One girl in particular smiled slightly, waving at Dick, "Hey, Dick."
    "Hey, Melanie."
    She batted her eyelashes, making me gag. Dick was completely oblivious to what she was doing. Even her wave held enormous amounts of flirtation. She was being so sappy, even going so far as to flip her sunshine hair, that I had half a mind to strangle it out of her.
    When we passed, Dick glanced at me. I was smirking at him, to which he lifted an eyebrow, "What?"
    "You are an idiot, Dick Grayson," I shook my head.
    Dick threw his hands out, "What did I do?"
    "The flirtation in one of her eyelashes alone was enough to drown all of Gotham. She's obviously ga-ga over youy."
    "What?" Dick's cheeks turned bright red, "No, not Melanie, we just go to school together."
    "That's how it starts."
    Dick's entire face turned bright red. I shook my head, laughing as I did so. Dick, wanting to get back at me, crossed his arms, "Well, at least I don't have Mack Henderson staring at me every time I pass."
    "Mack Henderson is the living embodiment of idiocy," I replied, "I'm eleven, Dick, why on earth would I want to date a thirteen year old? Let alone a boy like him!"
    Dick frowned, "The same goes for me and Melanie. I would never go for her."
    "Unless you were desperate."
    "I am not."
    "Not yet."
    Dick glared at me. We made it to the street corner where Alfred was waiting with the car. He opened the back door and smiled, "A good day at school, I presume?"
    "We didn't hit anyone, so I guess," Dick replied.
    I laughed, "I came close."
    Alfred chuckled. He shut the door and returned to the driver's seat. Dick sat on one side of the long row of seats while I sat on the other. I pulled my new book out of my backpack and flipped it open. My teacher had suggested it, after I finished the book he assigned and adored it. This one, titled Peter Pan, was an old classic Mama had spoken of.
    "Master Bruce wishes me to inform you that he has a guest," Alfred replied, "Who may be staying for dinner."
    Dick leaned forward, "Anyone I know?"
    "Master Kent."
    "Kent," I muttered, "that name sounds familiar."
    Alfred didn't reply. We made it to The Manor just ten minutes later. Dick and I went in first. I shouldered my backpack as we climbed the stairs. The books inside were heavy, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.
    "You wanna play Twister after dinner?" Dick asked.
    I snorted, "I've learned never to play that with you, Mister Was-An-Acrobat."
    Dick beamed. I may have spent years in gymnastics, but my skills were nothing compared to Dick's. He could complete complex moves I could never dream of in the bat of an eye. Playing Twister with him was like betting The Flash you could beat him in a race.
    "Fine, how about Monopoly?" Dick asked.
    "Alright, dibs on Park Place."
    "That's not how this works."
    We entered the Manor, dropping our coats on the coat rack by the door. Both of us quickly ran upstairs to change out of our uniforms into something more comfortable. I change into one of my signature green sweaters. It felt like a warm hug in a cold wasteland.
    Dick and I met back up at the top of the stairs. One of the best things about these past four months was my friendship with him. We instantly connected, perhaps because we both felt isolated from others our own age. Four months later, I felt like I could call him my best friend.
    "Dick, Lucille, say hello to our guest," Bruce came out from the sitting room.
    I spun to face him. At the foot of the stairs, standing next to Bruce, was a familiar figure. I recognized Clark Kent from my parents funeral.
    "Hey, Mister Kent," Dick waved.
    Clark nodded at Dick, "Dick, good to see you again."
    When he saw me, he hesitated. Bruce gestured to me, "Clark, this is-"
    "Lucille Brimsey," he completed, "I thought you went missing."
    I crossed my arms, "I ran here, Bruce took me in."
    "Wait," Clark glanced at Bruce, "She's the girl you told me about?"
    "Yeah, that's her."
    Clark's face lost all color. I was confused. He acted as if he knew something about me that I didn't. By the way his shoulders began to sag, it wasn't a good thing.
    "I take it you know each other," Dick stated, just as confused as me.
    "He was at my parents funeral," I stated, "He said he went to school with my Dad."
    Bruce glanced at Clark. He did a great job of hiding his thoughts and emotions, but I could tell that confused him. All of us, with the exception of Clark, was confused.
    "Lucille, I-" he stopped himself.
    I lifted an eyebrow, "You're what? Are you going to defend Superman again, because I don't want to hear it."
    "Clark," Bruce warned.
    Clark glanced at him. They seemed to have a silent conversation. Finally Clark sighed. He reached up and took off his glasses. As he did, he began to hover above the ground.
    "I'm sorry," he whispered.
    My blood ran cold as I realized what was happening. Clark Kent, the man who claimed to be an old friend of my parents, who defended Superman, was actually the man who killed my parents. I let my arms fall to my side as tears threaten to fall.
    "You!" I exclaimed, "What-why- you went to their funeral!"
    "Lucille-"
    "No! No! You said you were a friend, but I guess that was a lie too, wasn't it?!"
    Clark stared at me for a moment, "Not exactly-"
    "I can't believe this!" I exclaimed, "All this time-all this pain-it's because of you!"
    I felt my rage building. It blinded me, making me momentarily forget that he was invulnerable. I was about to lunge at him, but Dick grabbed my waist.
    "Lucy, calm down," he tried, "You can't-"
    "Watch me!"
    I wanted nothing more than to strangle him at that moment. I think Clark noticed too. He sunk to the floor in a depressed manner. My tears were flowing freely now.
    "I tried," Clark started, "I can't save everyone."
    "You could have saved them!"
    I pushed Dick off of me, scowling at all three of them. Before anyone else could say anything else, I ran towards my bedroom. I couldn't take him on now, I wasn't ready yet. Soon, however, he would regret the day.
    I ran all the way to the window. Throwing it open, I climbed out onto the wall. My room was close to the roof. Using the ridges in the wall, I could climb to the roof. There, I found myself a hidden alcove beneath a battlement. Nobody could see me there.
    I pulled my knees to my chest and began to sob. My face was buried in my knees, which was why I didn't notice Superman fly out from the backyard. I released all the sobs I had. Every bit of pain was released in that moment.
    "Lucy?"
    I glanced up. Dick had climbed onto the roof was was standing three yards away. He heard my sobs, and began to make his way over. I simply stared at him.
    "Lucy, he's gone now," Dick sat next to me.
    I squeezed my knees to my chest, "He killed my Mama and Papa, and had the nerve to show up to their funeral."
    "He meant well."
    "He killed them!" I exclaimed, "How can that be meaning well?"
    Dick shook his head. My crying didn't stop, it felt like it did the day of the funeral. Seeing Clark Kent opened an old wound. Just to think, that day I thought he was trying to make me feel better, he was actually defending himself.
    "I felt the same way when my parents died," Dick stated, "I wanted to kill the man who killed them, but Bruce taught me better. He helped me realize that, by killing them, we're stooping to their level. We have to rise above."
    I glanced up at him, "Superman isn't supposed to be the bad guy, he's supposed to be a hero. But he-he-"
    Dick tentatively placed an arm around my shoulders. I let him, continuing to sob. He sat in silence, which was all I really needed. His company was enough to make it seem slightly bearable.
    "I-I don't think I want to kill him," I stated, "I just want him to know the pain I felt."
    Dick glanced at me, "Killing his parents would be ten times worse."
    "No, not that either," I replied, "I don't know how, but I want him to feel pain. Death is too good for him, and his parents did nothing wrong. I don't how what to do, but I have to do something."
    Dick stared at me for a moment. My tears were subsiding, but it wouldn't be permanent. Finally, Dick spoke.
    "I think I might know how to help," he said, "But, Bruce won't like it."
    I glanced up at him, "What're you talking about?"
    "Lucy, we're going to Metropolis."