Can A Bird Trust A Cat? (A Young Justice FanFic)

Chapter Two

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing still...

~-~-~-~-~-~

We were soon at Catwoman's apartment. But instead of going through the door like normal people, we made our way up the fire escape.

"Do you have to make so much noise?" Catwoman complained.

"Sorry, but I don't practice climbing up fire escapes as quietly as I possibly can," I retorted. She mumbled something about "Batman", "Robin", and "annoying". When we finally reached her window, she opened it and stepped inside. I followed, but ended up stepping on something. Immediately, I heard hissing, and then I had a scratch across my leg.

"Relax, Isis. She's going to be staying here for awhile." Catwoman picked up the cat that I had stumbled on. "Let's go to the kitchen." I hesitated for a moment, thinking that she was still talking to the cat. She then looked back at me and seemed to say "What are you, deaf?" I bit my lip and followed her to the kitchen.

"Can we get a light or something?" I asked, fearful of stepping on any other cats. I heard Catwoman sigh, then a light flicked on, blinding me for a moment. She set Isis down on the counter and filled up a bowl with milk for the cat. I studied the room. It was small and messy, with bowls and silverware scattered on the counter. The sink was somewhat filled up with dishes. Plus, there were about six cats roaming around, just in that room. Figures that Catwoman would love cats.

"C'mon, let's go sit," Catwoman said to me, then led me to a small table that could only fit two people at it. I sat, and Catwoman took off her mask, revealing black hair with a pixie-cut and green eyes. I gasped. "What?" she snapped.

"You're trusting me with your identity? We just met!" I exclaimed.

"Have you seen my face before?" she asked me. I shook my head. "Do you know my name?" Again, I shook my head. "Then you don't know my identity." I looked away, feeling like an idiot for saying that. "Now, what's your name?"

"Vanessa. Vanessa Edwards." I stated.

"Age?"

"Thirteen."

"Where're your parents?"

"Don't know, don't care. They abandoned me at age two."

"Okay. How long have you been living on the streets?"

"About six, seven months."

"How'd you learn how to fight?"

"Experience." I rolled up my sleeve to reveal a variety of scars crisscrossing my arm, including the fresh cut that was sending a steady trickle of blood down my arm. I did not feel like mentioning that some of the scars were from abusive foster parents.

"I'll be right back." Catwoman then got up and walked down the hallway. I guessed that she was going to get some medical supplies for my wound. My eyes scanned the room I was in. It looked like the living room, which included a beaten, worn brown couch, an old coffee table, and a small TV, with about ten cats wandering around. Why was I here? Was I really that stupid to accept an invitation to stay at Catwoman's house? I hung my head in my hands, frustrated and confused with a million questions zooming through my head. Catwoman came back after a while with a bandage and some antiseptic. I let her dress the wound, and an awkward silence filled the air. Finally, I let out the question that had been on my mind ever since she had led me back here.

"Why in the world are you letting me stay here?" I stated.

"That'll be a long answer." She paused and thought of how to start. "You remind me a lot of myself growing up. When I was younger, younger than you, my mother committed suicide. Since I guess I looked a lot like her, my father often ignored me and resented me for her demise. Eventually he drank himself to death and people shipped me to an orphanage and then to a juvenile delinquent center, which I escaped. I had rather live on the streets than in that place." Catwoman stopped talking.

"That's a really heartfelt story and all, but I don't think that's all there is to it. Or am I wrong?" I prodded her on.

"Okay, okay. Look, I need a protégé. Batman's had one for about 4 years now and he always gets in the way of me accomplishing my goals. I at least had some luck when the Bat worked alone. Plus, I'm running low on money for everyday things like food and rent."

"Woah, you want me to be your partner in crime so that you can outsmart the Dynamic Duo and steal whatever it is that you want to be stolen? I knew there was something behind this!" I exclaimed, yanking my bandaged arm away from her with a scowl on my face.

"Okay, well, it was just an offer. You can go back to whatever alleyway I found you in now." Catwoman turned her back on me to return the medical supplies back to the bathroom. I didn't want to go back to living on the streets, but I also didn't want to become a sidekick to one of the most famous criminals in Gotham City. I weighed the pros and cons of each: if I went back, I would have to fight for my life every day, continue to starve, come close to dying of thirst, and barely sleep while trying to avoid the police, but not become a criminal. If I stayed here, I would have a roof over my head, food to eat, water to drink, and get long, uninterrupted nights of sleep, but become a criminal.

"Wait!" I yelled to Catwoman. She turned around, a smug look on her face. I hated saying this, but it was a choice of either life or death. "Count me in." Life was my priority.

~-~-~-~-~-~

*gasp* Vanessa? Criminal? How could she? I'm thinking that I might post chapters every other day from now on, not including weekends. So. Vote, comment, and follow! c: