Chapter Two: So Wrong

Bruce slept for the two-ish days, Claire waking him periodically for water, food and changing his bandage, but he was out of it. He ran a fever the first 18 hours and Claire hadn't left his bedside for anything except to run to the kitchen to replace his ice. When the fever had finally broken, the young woman had deemed it safe for her to fall asleep and had done so, sitting on the floor next to the bed, her arms resting on the mattress and her head resting on her arms. It wasn't the most comfortable position she'd ever slept in, but then again it wasn't the most uncomfortable either. She woke next at about 11 P.M. Sunday Night, the bed underneath her arms jostling as its host moved.

"What're you doin'?" She mumbled sleepily, rubbing at her eyes. "Sorry, I was trying to find something for me to sleep in… it's a little bit cold." Bruce replied and Claire shot up, suddenly awake.

"You're up! How do you feel?" She asked, placing a hand on the man's forehead and deeming it cool enough, removed it. Bruce raised an eyebrow. "A little worse for wear, I have a headache, but I've had much worse before. As I said, I was a little cold…" He told her and Claire nodded. "Stay here, I'll go grab you some sweats to sleep in. You'll probably need some more rest for your injuries. W-we can discuss how you want to leave when I get back." She said and the man only nodded, his eyes not leaving her as she backed out of the room and into her living area. Like a zombie, Claire walked to her front door and opened it, closing it behind her and looking left and right, trying to remember what she was doing. Having jogged her memory, the young woman quickly flung herself across the hall to the apartment across from her and knocked on the door. It wasn't that late yet and she figured her elderly neighbour would be awake still. She guessed correctly as the door opened to reveal and old African American woman, leaning heavily on her walking stick.

"Claire dear? What's the matter? How can I help?" She asked and Claire smiled, shoving her hands in her hoody pockets at the last minute in case they still had blood on them. "Hi Mrs. Fallon, I have a friend staying over tonight and he forgot to pack his pajama pants, I was just wondering if Casey had pair he could borrow?" She asked referring to the woman's grandson whom she held custody of and the old woman smiled, ushering her inside.

Claire returned to her apartment ten minutes later, hurriedly fumbling with her door handle and rushing to close it after herself as she walked quickly into her bedroom.

"The lady across from me lent me her grandson's sweats so you can…. What are you doing?" She asked as she spotted the man several feet away from her bed and inspecting the items on her desk instead. He held in his hands two photo frames one of her family when she was a little girl; her parents stood either side of her with large smiles on their faces. It was the first photo that they had taken when they arrived in America from Ireland. The second photo was a newspaper clipping with the caption "Retrial jails Harding family murderer and others thanks to Batman" with the first photo as the image next to the text in the clipping. Bruce turned to her slightly, motioning to the pictures as Claire waked over to him.

"I'm sorry." He said watching her as she snatched the frames from him.

"Why? Batman uncovering the dirty judges led to a retrial. A fair one where the bastard got what he deserved." She said sourly, placing the photos back on her desk, but offering him a small smile. It was odd to think that his man, playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, was Batman, but the broken and burnt suit and cowl behind him on the floor of her bedroom told her it was true and she sighed, shoving the pants into his hands, turning around and decidedly not taking note of the fact that Batman preferred briefs. And she definitely didn't take note of how goddamn fit he was either. Because he was basically her patient, and also about eight years older than her and also he was Batman, and that would be so, so wrong of her. She turned back to him as he cleared his throat and looked around her room, his arms folded across his chest in a way that made his biceps bulge. Claire swallowed.

So wrong.

"Ugh, so what did you want to do about getting outta this hellhole?" She asked him, scratching her head and looking rather determinedly at his eyes and at no other part of his body. "Bruce Wayne probably wouldn't want to be seen dead coming out of here… And you've been gone for two days already..." She trailed off and chewed on her lip. "Is there someone I can let know where you are? There has to be someone else who knows right? It's not just you all alone?" She asked and Bruce didn't fail to notice the sadness in her voice, like she knew exactly how it felt to be alone. His eyes flickered to the photos on her desk again and he sighed. Gotham made orphans out of too many people.

"My Butler, Alfred knows. If you can somehow contact him, we can organize a pickup." Bruce told her and Claire nodded in agreement. "Do you have a phone number or…?" She asked and Bruce shook his head. "No, I don't trust conversations like this to be held over the phone. You should go to the Mansion." He said. Claire frowned, she didn't like the idea of traveling so far out of the city by taxi, which she would have to use of course since she didn't drive (it was far too expensive), but she sucked in a breath of air. There were other reasons she didn't like to travel too far away from home, but she forced herself not to think about them.

"I'll have to go tomorrow afternoon. I have Classes in the morning. Will you be okay to stay here another day or so?" Bruce nodded his head and Claire sighed, rubbing her face.

"I was going to study this weekend." She laughed mirthlessly and directed Bruce to the bed, so she could change his bandage. Bruce obeyed and sat, watching her as she worked, taking the time to truly look at the girl who had saved his life and taken to the fact he was Batman so easily. She was tall, the top of her head reached his eyes, and she had a pretty face; big eyes, a button nose, plump lips and a beautiful smile. She was thin, but filled out in all the right areas in his opinion and her dark hair was wild and curly, flying every which way and reached the middle of her shoulder blades but he guessed it would be much longer if she ever straightened it. She seemed to flinch whenever he moved though, like she was ready to throw her arms up and protect herself at any moment and that made him think about what kind of a life she had had. He felt like he could trust her though, and that was strange for him. Usually people had to earn his trust over a period of time. "She did save your life and has continued to keep you safe in her apartment while you've recovered over the last two days." A voice in his head told him and he frowned. It sounded too much like his father to be comfortable.

When Claire had finished checking on his stitches and rewrapping the wound with clean bandages, she gathered up the old ones and made to move away but almost jumped out of her skin when her wrist was caught gently.

"What's your name?" He asked, realizing she hadn't told him. He knew her last name was Harding due to the framed news piece, but they hadn't mentioned her name anywhere. It was also the first time he noticed the tattoo on her arm, scrawled letters that read 'Every sinner has a future'. He wondered about it briefly, he'd heard it before. It was part of a quote, the whole phrase reading 'Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future.' He frowned, it was an odd thing for her to have, but he let it go. Claire had to forcefully will her heart beat to lower and she took her wrist back. She didn't like being touched, especially by people she didn't know very well. It didn't even matter that he was Batman, or that he was extremely good looking when he looked at her like that… Or just when he looked at her at all. "It's Claire. Claire Harding." She told him and stood up as he began to lie back down, having exhausted his energy for the day. Before she left the room however she heard his voice speak to her in a soft tone that was completely opposite to what he had sounded like as Batman.

"Thank you, Claire. For everything."

Claire smiled to herself and she turned out the light, closing the door behind her and discarding the bloodied bandages. She hoped Karma was taking note of her actions, god knows she would need all the brownie points she could get to make up for the terrible things she'd done in her life.

A/N: Woo! Thanks for reading! I'm actually really excited about this story!

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