Author's note:

We're back! I said I might write more of "Cat and Mouse" and here it is. I'll try not to go months without updating this time. No promises.

xo Serpentina

Bruce rubbed his blurry eyes until they ached. He wondered cynically if all those late nights reading page after page of legalese was what had forced his father to don his iconic glasses. When he said he wanted to take a more active role in running Wayne Enterprises, this was not what he had in mind. How had Thomas Wayne kept up with everything going on in the company while maintaining his medical practice? Bruce would never know. It was probably the reason his father never had much energy to play when Bruce was young.

He reached for the cream colored coffee cup emblazoned with a golden script "W" only to find it empty. He considered having Alfred brew more, but realized his butler had probably gone to sleep hours ago. Bruce was more than capable of making his own coffee but suddenly the kitchen felt miles away. That was definitely a downside of living in a house this large: one had to be prepared to walk a distance to get anywhere. His bedroom, only twenty yards away, seemed the better option. TPS reports would have to wait until morning.

Just as he resigned himself to bed, Bruce noticed the unopened manilla envelope partly hidden under a stack of assorted files. Curiosity won out over the promise of sleep. The envelope was addressed to "Mr. Bruce Wayne" and bore no return address. It had been stamped at the Gotham City central post office so Bruce deduced that it must have originated from someone in the city. He cautiously slid the point of his letter opener under its flap and deftly sliced it open. The contents spilled out onto his desk. Inside was a photocopied slip of paper.

Bruce's eyes blurred as he scanned the page. "State of California Certificate of Vital Record" was written in gothic script across the top of the page. Further down was written, "Certificate of Live Birth." After a moment of confusion his eyes focused on one line. It read "Name of Mother: Selina Marie Kyle. Name of Father: Unknown."

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. He swallowed around it.

Certificate of live birth. The words screamed in his mind. Live birth. There was no miscarriage. Father unknown.

"She didn't want me to know," Bruce's voice sounded hollow and far away.

For the first time in months, Bruce did another thing his father had regularly done. He drank himself to sleep.

Bruce woke with a start and immediately regretted trying to sit. His head was pounding. He had never made it to his room. After a few glasses of scotch, he had simply fallen asleep on the dark leather sofa in the study. The empty crystal decanter was abandoned on the coffee table with its matching glass.

"I trust your midnight oil is well and truly burned," Alfred's mocking tone came from the door.

In the butler's hands was a tray with a steaming coffee mug and a plate of scones.

"Yes. Sorry," Bruce said regretfully. He leaned his throbbing forehead against his palm.

"You're not going to be making a habit of this are you? I thought we were past your days of late night partying." Alfred's voice was verging on anger, but his eyes held only concern.

"No, definitely not. I mean, it was a one-time thing," Bruce promised.

"I should hope so," Alfred said. He set the tray down in front of Bruce and picked up the crystal. "Eat up and get dressed. We've a long day of training ahead of us."

Bruce sighed, but picked up a scone.

"What are we doing today?" He asked with a mouth full of scone and coffee.

"To start?" Alfred said with a smirk. "A run. Five miles should be a good way to wake up."

Bruce groaned but Alfred had already left the room. It was going to be a long day.