A.N. Please comment. Again, Idk if this story is weird or not because I always get the weirdest ideas.
Bruce fingered the picture he always kept close by him. The edges were worn but smoothed out due to his constant touch. He was smiling in the photo, an expression he hadn't worn on any of his facades in years. Not since he was sixteen to be exact. His smile was wide and almost innocent, without a care in the world. The girl next to him was nudging his side, although it couldn't be seen in the picture, and her face adorned the same expression, just a little bit sadder. His eyes lingered on the girl for more time that he liked to admit before he tucked it away, inside his suit, close to his heart.
----------------------------------------------------------------20 years ago-------------------------------------------------------
11-year-old Bruce Wayne packed his backpack with all of the essentials: flashlight, snacks, bandaids, water, and other items he thought he would need. Alfred came up to him as he was zipping it shut.
"Master Bruce, are you absolutely sure you don't require my assistance?"
"I'm sure Alfred, this is something I have to do alone. I'll be back before dark."
Alfred sighed in agreement. He knew, that once Bruce had made up his mind, he could do little to nothing that would change it.
Bruce left the manor and walked towards the woods. He and his father had a custom. Once a year, they would go on a hike, the same path each time. They would light a fire at the top and stay awake to watch the sunrise. This would be Bruce's first year going alone and as a result, he could only participate in the hike, not the overnight stay. He walked up through the woods, his mind dwelling on certain things his father would always point out to him. That specific tree that always had a nest of squirrels. The fallen trunk that never seemed to decay, even after all those years. It both upset and comforted him that many of those things remained the same, even though his father was gone.
At one point, he reached a very small clearing where he and his father would always choose a rock to bring to the top with them. He picked one up for himself. Then he hesitated and, on a whim, picked one up for his father. When he reached the end of the hike, he came across two pyramids of stones, one considerably smaller than the other. One rock in each pile had small words carved into it. He placed one of his rocks on the smaller pile and then hesitated again before putting the other on the bigger pile. He stared at them. He picked up the rock with writing from the bigger pile. The words Thomas Wayne were engraved in small, neat handwriting. He stared at it, fury rising in him, hot and fast. He growled and threw the stone furiously, as far as it would go. He picked up another and another and another chucking it harder and harder each time.
He proceeded to kick both piles, not caring that he was most likely bruising his feet. All that mattered was that his father was gone and this tradition just brought back more memories he tried so hard to forget. Tears rolled down his face as he expressed his rage violently. He finally picked up the stone with his own name and threw it farther than any of the other ones had gone.
But he didn't expect to hear a thud, followed by a painful groan and an "ow!"
His eyes widened in surprise as he followed the voice to a small spot a little down the hill.
He walked until he saw the form of a small girl who looked the same age as he was. She was lean and looked dainty until he saw the defined muscles in her arms. She had a mess of pitch black hair that went just past her shoulders. She was clutching her head in pain, and Bruce winced in apology. She looked up to see him and suddenly he was staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Wait, no they were actually a mixture of blue and green and they seemed to swirl. She was looking at him with a little bit of anger and bewilderment. She moved her hand off of her skull and Bruce was horrified to see some blood on her palm.
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