Carrie Kelley (girlwonder) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2008-08-17 21:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | carrie kelley |
who. Carrie Kelley [narrative]
what. picking up the pieces after the whole abandonment by her hero and father-figure
when. tonight, late
where. NYC
Seven days after Bruce had left and there was still, to Carrie's knowledge, no sign of him. Dick had said something about looking for him, but Carrie had decided not to take part in a search. She'd barely felt any urge to patrol. For the first time in a very long time, she spent a solid week of time at home, mostly in bed. She'd left once for Bruce's funeral. That'd been Friday. Out of a sense of duty and a morbid sense of humor, Carrie had attended with the rest of her family. She hadn't really wanted to do, though. She'd been to Bruce's funeral once, back home. Once should have been enough.
So she'd trudged there grudgingly dressed in all black. Surrounded by strangers, Carrie had tried to not stare at the empty casket in the front of the room. She'd focused instead on her family. The first half of the service, she'd spent trying not to laugh bitterly. But after sitting and trying-not-to-stare at Bruce's smiling photograph for about an hour, she'd eventually felt tears spring to her eyes. It seemed stupid to her. He wasn't really dead, and yet she couldn't help but cry.
After the funeral, she'd gone back home and hadn't left her bed for more than a few hours at a time. She hadn't showered or changed her clothing. She'd only eaten when Dick had gently reminded her to do so. She didn't even hear about the Joker's jailbreak. She swore she was fine, or would be eventually.
On the seventh day, Carrie peeked her head from beneath blanket and blearily looked around the bedroom. The apartment was too still; Dick must have been out at work or patrolling. With some time to herself, Carrie stretched out on the bed. She attempted to fall back asleep, but her body refused. After seven days of inactivity, she didn't want to sleep anymore.
So Carrie got up, stood on wobbly legs, and began to pace around the apartment. She began to run a hand through her hair but stopped abruptly when tangles refused to let her fingers go down any further. Carrie tried to remember when she'd last combed her hair. Or showered. She couldn't be quite sure.
She did know one thing: she couldn't keep going on like this. She wasn't built to stay at home and not help. There was too much going on. The city still needed protecting - especially with Batman gone. It was just a matter of taking a step forward and forcing herself out of the apartment.
Carrie walked around the apartment. The longer she spent on her feet, the better her body felt. Carrie eventually found herself hesitating before her room. When she'd first moved into the apartment, she'd claimed this one as her own. Signs of this covered every inch of the room, from the discarded shirts on the floor, to the Ratman and Bluejay figurines that sat or stood on the dresser, to the Ratman posters on the wall. Carrie had ceased to sleep in her room once she and Dick had started sleeping together, but she still used it as one might a very large closet. It'd been seven days since she'd stepped inside, fearful of what the posters might do to her.
Taking a deep breath, Carrie pushed the door open. She took a cautious step inside the room and was relieved to find that she didn't cry at the sight of the Ratman symbol. For a moment, she turned and looked around. She was surprised to find how small the room felt.
Carrie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that sat atop the dresser and blinked. She almost didn't recognize herself. The tangled hair, the dark circles around her eyes, the pale skin, the dullness in her eyes all made her look completely worn out.
Resolve came to her quickly. "I can't keep doing this," she whispered in a voice that was slightly hoarse from lack of use over the past few days.
Within twenty minutes, Carrie was stepping out of the shower. She managed to get a comb through her hair and changed into clean clothes. Then she went to the fridge to get a bite to eat. With a carton of old Chinese food in hand, Carrie walked into the living room. There was a new purpose to her steps. She felt more stable than she had in days.
After setting her food on a nearby table, Carrie took the laptop, nicknamed Burt, and a tablet and turned the machine on. It took a second to warm up.
"Hey Burt."
The monitor came to life. Nightwing's symbol flashed on the screen. "Gee golly, Carrie," an electronic voice that sounded surprisingly like Burt Ward said, "Whatever can I do for you today?"
"New folder. Let's keep it just between the two of us for now. Erase traces of it and keep my history clean so Dick won't stumble on it later, 'kay?"
"That's just super! And what's would you like to name this folder?"
"Uh." She paused to think. "Bye Bye Birdie." A little thrill went down her spine.
"You got it!" A pause. "Need a password?"
"Yup. Let's go with Kitt-Kyle-Pfeiffer."
"Please repeat."
"Kitt-Kyle-Pfeiffer."
"Okie dokie. All done! Anything else I can do for you?"
"Ace, Burt. Thanks. I need to draw. Graph paper background, please."
"Holy unnecessary exclamation, Carrie! Done and done!"
Carrie stared at the blank document, a pen in her mouth. She chewed it for a few minutes and lost some time just thinking about where she could go with this. Before she began to draw, she hesitated for just a second. She knew what she needed to do, but there was some reluctance to push everything she'd ever known aside for something new.
But Bruce hadn't left her a choice. As Carrie stared down the tablet, she realized she'd been mourning more than the fallen image of her lifelong hero. She'd mourned losing a part of herself. She couldn't be Robin anymore.
It was time to figure out who she was. Without Bruce. Without Batman.
Carrie put the pen to the tablet and started to sketch.