All That I Feel Is The Realness I'm Faking...
[I wasn't sure how to continue this thread that began at questionorigin's journal, so I'm going to repost her original entry, plus the ensuing thread, here. Credit for co-writing all of this goes to questionorigin. The Crane referred to throughout this is arkhams_dr and the OC Nadine Lewis is knowthenbreak. Also, this is Future!Shatter-verse.]
She could not even count how many lies she had told to get the documents she now held. It was a wonder no one had asked the right questions, talked to other people, realized that everyone was getting a slightly different story, tailored to pull on their heartstrings. She had designed every lie for the person she told it to. Each one was a custom deception.
Three envelopes from Gotham General sat before her. She opened each one and laid them out. Three medical records, obtained by absolutely illegal means. Still, she had them. She paged through each one until she found what she wanted, and she laid them out. Jonathan Crane, Nadine Lewis, Harvey Dent. The records had... everything. But she only cared about one piece of information.
Blood type.
Nadine Lewis (now Dent, officially) had type A blood.
Duela Dent wrote that down on a piece of paper, writing both AA and AO. The possible combinations of the A blood type.
She took a deep breath as she looked at Harvey Dent's records. She etched AB onto her pad of paper.
Jonathan Crane was last. Blood type O. She wrote OO.
She pulled out another file from her desk drawer, marked as her own medical file. Her fingers trembled as she touched the cover of it. She prayed that it would read B or AB. A... would be dubious. O would be a death sentence.
She pushed the file open and browsed through the pieces of paper. She wanted to tear each sheet apart, never know the truth, but she had to know. She needed that last piece of information.
When she saw what she was looking for, she threw the half-empty glass of water into the wall.
Blood type O.
Her bedroom door opened. A blond woman in her forties stepped in. Her smile made Duela want to tear her eyes out, those blue eyes that looked from the broken glass and water seeping into the carpet to her daughter.
"Duela, what's wrong?" she whispered, reaching out a hand to touch the girl's cheek.
Duela recoiled, and her own hand went out, smacking the woman across the face. She was on her feet and advancing, the older woman taking a few steps back. "Get out," Duela hissed. Her voice was low, dangerous, and Nadine Dent did not understand what was going on, but she was able to understand that it was not good. "Get out!"
With her shout, Duela aimed another smack, and Nadine staggered into the hall. Her daughter was in her doorway.
"Duela! What the Hell is going on?"
Harvey Dent was in the hall, looking between his wife, who was rubbing her cheek, and his daughter, who was trembling with fury.
Duela looked at him and, as tears came to her eyes, drew back into her room. The door slammed, and she pressed her back against it, swallowing a scream as her father knocked-- pounded on the door. He demanded to be let in, but she kept herself braced against it.
Blood type O.
"Duela!" Harvey was relentless and growing angry.
"Go away!" She shouted, but it was more plea than demand.
"Fat chance," he called back, getting ready to burst in. "Now let me in the easy way or you're gonna be lacking a door in about ten seconds."
If it were anyone else, she'd have called his bluff. But Harvey Dent? She knew better. She stepped away from the door, took a long breath and sat down at her desk.
"Fine. Come in."
Harvey opened the door, came in and closed it behind him, leaving Nadine out in the hall.
"What in the goddamn hell was that, Duela?" His eyes were ablaze and in a few short steps he was standing over her.
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed and back straight. "Something I should have done a long time ago."
She spoke calmly, her voice low, but there were tears standing in her eyes. She wouldn't let them fall, though. Not now.
"Hit your mother?" Harvey looked down at her. "Do it again and you won't like what happens. Now what's going on?"
She began a retort but didn't bother with it. She looked up at him for a moment, tilting her head just slightly.
Out of nowhere, she asked, "What do you know about the cuckoo?"
"The what?" Her remark threw Harvey off completely.
"The cuckoo." She seemed actually serious about this. Why it was being mentioned... that was the mystery. "It's a bird."
"I'm aware of that...they put 'em in those little clocks," Harvey said. He frowned. "What about it?"
She hesitated. It wasn't too late. She could back out. Give him some story. But. He deserved the truth.
She got up from her desk, going to her bedroom window, putting distance between them. "They're horrible birds, certain kinds of them." She looked out the window and, for some reason, her shoulders quivered. "They lay their eggs in another bird's nest. When the chick hatches, it kills the others, the actual child of the host pair. Then the host pair, usually smaller than the cuckoo, don't... recognize the difference, and they run themselves ragged to take care of the chick."
She paused, still staring out the window. She doubted things would click yet. "Horrible birds."
"What does this have to do with hitting your mother?"
Harvey was genuinely confused, not following his daughter at all. She could be a strange person - even as a child she had her moments - but he had no idea what to make of this.
She took a slow, deep breath in, shutting her eyes. The moment of truth. Her shoulders shuddered again. Would he understand the significance of the blood types she had on her desk still? Or would she have to further explain?
Her voice shook as she said, barely audible, and she never turned toward him, staring out the window. "Look at the papers on my desk."
"What..." Harvey went to her desk and glanced at the papers. His medical file...Nadine's...Duela's...His stomach lurched when he saw Crane's medical file there with his family's files.
He didn't understand. A little blankly, he looked over his medical file. Sex - M, family history of heart disease, Blood Type - AB.
He looked through Nadine's file - family history of hypertension, treatment for...He glanced over the rest of her file and his eyes landed on her Blood Type - A.
Duela's file was next. She was too young to have much of a medical history...vaccinations, a broken arm when she was seven. Blood type - O.
What...
Harvey didn't know a lot about blood types, but he knew enough to know that his own blood type - AB - had little to do with blood type O.
No.
With the same blank, stunned look, Harvey took Jonathan Crane's file in his hands and opened it, skipping straight to Blood Type.
O.
O.
O.
How---well that much was obvious, wasn't it?
"They lay their eggs in another bird's nest. When the chick hatches, it kills the others, the actual child of the host pair. Then the host pair, usually smaller than the cuckoo, don't... recognize the difference, and they run themselves ragged to take care of the chick."
Now he remembered the one thing he knew about the cuckoo. Its mating practices had originated the word cuckold.
Harvey took a ragged breath in and looked over at Duela's profile. Those cheekbones, her nose...
"ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHH!" In one swift move, Harvey overturned the desk and stormed out of her bedroom. He had two people on his mind, only one of whom was in reach at the moment. His eyes were ablaze with anger as he sought out Nadine.
Duela stood there, silent, never looking back. She tried not to flinch when her desk crashed to the floor. She didn't say anything, didn't try to stop him. She didn't think she could even speak to him right now. She had no right to speak to him.
Duela shut her eyes after he left the room, and a few tears escaped. She opened her mouth, trying to scream, trying to do anything, but nothing would come out. She could barely breathe.
She turned and entered the hallway, oblivious to everything but herself. She did not head for the living room, beyond which was the kitchen. One of those two places would be where her mother was, she knew. Instead, she went out onto the terrace. She knew a way to the ground floor from there.
...And she knew how to hurt Jonathan Crane.
Harvey, meanwhile, was heading straight toward Nadine, who was in the kitchen, obliviously fixing a cup of tea. If she couldn't tell from the sound of his footsteps, she would know soon enough by the look on his face that he was enraged - possibly the angriest he'd ever been.
She could not even count how many lies she had told to get the documents she now held. It was a wonder no one had asked the right questions, talked to other people, realized that everyone was getting a slightly different story, tailored to pull on their heartstrings. She had designed every lie for the person she told it to. Each one was a custom deception.
Three envelopes from Gotham General sat before her. She opened each one and laid them out. Three medical records, obtained by absolutely illegal means. Still, she had them. She paged through each one until she found what she wanted, and she laid them out. Jonathan Crane, Nadine Lewis, Harvey Dent. The records had... everything. But she only cared about one piece of information.
Blood type.
Nadine Lewis (now Dent, officially) had type A blood.
Duela Dent wrote that down on a piece of paper, writing both AA and AO. The possible combinations of the A blood type.
She took a deep breath as she looked at Harvey Dent's records. She etched AB onto her pad of paper.
Jonathan Crane was last. Blood type O. She wrote OO.
She pulled out another file from her desk drawer, marked as her own medical file. Her fingers trembled as she touched the cover of it. She prayed that it would read B or AB. A... would be dubious. O would be a death sentence.
She pushed the file open and browsed through the pieces of paper. She wanted to tear each sheet apart, never know the truth, but she had to know. She needed that last piece of information.
When she saw what she was looking for, she threw the half-empty glass of water into the wall.
Blood type O.
Her bedroom door opened. A blond woman in her forties stepped in. Her smile made Duela want to tear her eyes out, those blue eyes that looked from the broken glass and water seeping into the carpet to her daughter.
"Duela, what's wrong?" she whispered, reaching out a hand to touch the girl's cheek.
Duela recoiled, and her own hand went out, smacking the woman across the face. She was on her feet and advancing, the older woman taking a few steps back. "Get out," Duela hissed. Her voice was low, dangerous, and Nadine Dent did not understand what was going on, but she was able to understand that it was not good. "Get out!"
With her shout, Duela aimed another smack, and Nadine staggered into the hall. Her daughter was in her doorway.
"Duela! What the Hell is going on?"
Harvey Dent was in the hall, looking between his wife, who was rubbing her cheek, and his daughter, who was trembling with fury.
Duela looked at him and, as tears came to her eyes, drew back into her room. The door slammed, and she pressed her back against it, swallowing a scream as her father knocked-- pounded on the door. He demanded to be let in, but she kept herself braced against it.
Blood type O.
"Duela!" Harvey was relentless and growing angry.
"Go away!" She shouted, but it was more plea than demand.
"Fat chance," he called back, getting ready to burst in. "Now let me in the easy way or you're gonna be lacking a door in about ten seconds."
If it were anyone else, she'd have called his bluff. But Harvey Dent? She knew better. She stepped away from the door, took a long breath and sat down at her desk.
"Fine. Come in."
Harvey opened the door, came in and closed it behind him, leaving Nadine out in the hall.
"What in the goddamn hell was that, Duela?" His eyes were ablaze and in a few short steps he was standing over her.
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed and back straight. "Something I should have done a long time ago."
She spoke calmly, her voice low, but there were tears standing in her eyes. She wouldn't let them fall, though. Not now.
"Hit your mother?" Harvey looked down at her. "Do it again and you won't like what happens. Now what's going on?"
She began a retort but didn't bother with it. She looked up at him for a moment, tilting her head just slightly.
Out of nowhere, she asked, "What do you know about the cuckoo?"
"The what?" Her remark threw Harvey off completely.
"The cuckoo." She seemed actually serious about this. Why it was being mentioned... that was the mystery. "It's a bird."
"I'm aware of that...they put 'em in those little clocks," Harvey said. He frowned. "What about it?"
She hesitated. It wasn't too late. She could back out. Give him some story. But. He deserved the truth.
She got up from her desk, going to her bedroom window, putting distance between them. "They're horrible birds, certain kinds of them." She looked out the window and, for some reason, her shoulders quivered. "They lay their eggs in another bird's nest. When the chick hatches, it kills the others, the actual child of the host pair. Then the host pair, usually smaller than the cuckoo, don't... recognize the difference, and they run themselves ragged to take care of the chick."
She paused, still staring out the window. She doubted things would click yet. "Horrible birds."
"What does this have to do with hitting your mother?"
Harvey was genuinely confused, not following his daughter at all. She could be a strange person - even as a child she had her moments - but he had no idea what to make of this.
She took a slow, deep breath in, shutting her eyes. The moment of truth. Her shoulders shuddered again. Would he understand the significance of the blood types she had on her desk still? Or would she have to further explain?
Her voice shook as she said, barely audible, and she never turned toward him, staring out the window. "Look at the papers on my desk."
"What..." Harvey went to her desk and glanced at the papers. His medical file...Nadine's...Duela's...His stomach lurched when he saw Crane's medical file there with his family's files.
He didn't understand. A little blankly, he looked over his medical file. Sex - M, family history of heart disease, Blood Type - AB.
He looked through Nadine's file - family history of hypertension, treatment for...He glanced over the rest of her file and his eyes landed on her Blood Type - A.
Duela's file was next. She was too young to have much of a medical history...vaccinations, a broken arm when she was seven. Blood type - O.
What...
Harvey didn't know a lot about blood types, but he knew enough to know that his own blood type - AB - had little to do with blood type O.
No.
With the same blank, stunned look, Harvey took Jonathan Crane's file in his hands and opened it, skipping straight to Blood Type.
O.
O.
O.
How---well that much was obvious, wasn't it?
"They lay their eggs in another bird's nest. When the chick hatches, it kills the others, the actual child of the host pair. Then the host pair, usually smaller than the cuckoo, don't... recognize the difference, and they run themselves ragged to take care of the chick."
Now he remembered the one thing he knew about the cuckoo. Its mating practices had originated the word cuckold.
Harvey took a ragged breath in and looked over at Duela's profile. Those cheekbones, her nose...
"ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHH!" In one swift move, Harvey overturned the desk and stormed out of her bedroom. He had two people on his mind, only one of whom was in reach at the moment. His eyes were ablaze with anger as he sought out Nadine.
Duela stood there, silent, never looking back. She tried not to flinch when her desk crashed to the floor. She didn't say anything, didn't try to stop him. She didn't think she could even speak to him right now. She had no right to speak to him.
Duela shut her eyes after he left the room, and a few tears escaped. She opened her mouth, trying to scream, trying to do anything, but nothing would come out. She could barely breathe.
She turned and entered the hallway, oblivious to everything but herself. She did not head for the living room, beyond which was the kitchen. One of those two places would be where her mother was, she knew. Instead, she went out onto the terrace. She knew a way to the ground floor from there.
...And she knew how to hurt Jonathan Crane.
Harvey, meanwhile, was heading straight toward Nadine, who was in the kitchen, obliviously fixing a cup of tea. If she couldn't tell from the sound of his footsteps, she would know soon enough by the look on his face that he was enraged - possibly the angriest he'd ever been.