Author's Note: So my Internet really is spotty, but luckily that doesn't stop me from writing so I have a new chapter for you. I don't have the chance to answer reviews individually, but one of you asked if this story was connected to 'The Changeling'. The answer is, no, though that fic did make first interested in writing something with Talia after a hefty amount of research ^_^ For some reason my brain is more in the mood to write this than 'Lights of Gotham' but I'll get back to it soon too. Enjoy and please review!

Robinson Park was a tiny piece of nature buried deep in the concrete jungle that was Gotham. Talia could see some of what her beloved did in the city as a whole, but she could not honestly say she liked it. But the park was different, with its thick trees filtering out some of the air and noise from outside. On the late Sunday afternoon there were people walking their dogs, mothers with strollers, couples holding hands, and a general sense of peace in the air.

This place she liked.

A few heads turned as they passed by, but she chose not to respond, instead linking her arm in Bruce's and edging a step closer. "I assume you are the one they are all staring at."

"And the latest beautiful woman I'm seen with." The corner of his mouth turned slightly. "Don't be surprised if we're the subject of some back page tabloid gossip tomorrow."

"If such is the price I must pay for your company," she gave an exaggerated sigh. "Honestly, it may be far simpler to consort with the Batman."

Without missing a beat, Bruce put in, "I hear he's too rigid."

She laughed, but there was an undeniable grain of truth to his words. Her father had always insisted that Batman was the true face, and Bruce himself had implied as much in the past. But Talia could not help but think that the man she was walking with now felt every bit as real and solid as the one she had seen so often in the cape and cowl. And it was certainly not the cold white of the lenses she'd looked into on their wedding night.

Apparently sensing her tension, though he could not have known the reason, he cleared his throat. "Of course there's someone who's much more interested in you than any reporters."

"Oh?"

"You came up in conversation last night."

"Ah, and young Jason must be terribly concerned that his father is spending time with the wrong person. Or is it simply the first time he has known you to see a woman more than once?"

He looked like he was weighing his answer. "A bit of both. I think he might be a little... jealous. Which is..."

"...Entirely understandable." She squeezed his arm. "He is a child. You have given him the first stable home he has ever known, but he has been with you for less than half a year. It is only natural that he wants nothing to compromise that."

"Why does it have to be a compromise?"

The question was so honest, so without barriers, it left her weak. Her hand fell away. She stopped, and he with her. There was not a single part of her that didn't ache to touch him, to a point where her hands went up but stopped just short of coming to rest on his chest.

"Because I cannot stay, Beloved." She whispered. "You know that."

"Do I?" She could feel his eyes on her, but Talia refused to look up.

"Do not do this." She shook her head. "Do not turn every statement into a question directed at me. I am not you or my father. I do not like these riddles and mind-games the pair of you play, and I absolutely despise having to choose a side in them."

"But you always pick his." There was a note of accusation in his tone.

Talia's back went rigid, and this time she did look directly into his eyes. "If I am to decide between being second to one man's quest or another's, how can you fault me for choosing my own blood?"

"I wouldn't have made you second."

It hurt more than if he had openly declared her father was the monster she knew he believed him to be. That was the age-old excuse that had always come between them, but this…

Her laugh was short and bitter. "Do not lie to yourself or me, Beloved. It is beneath you."

Despite her best intentions and most likely his own, the single comment left the rest of the afternoon with a void between them. When they parted ways, Talia felt cold. Alone in her loft late in the evening as she got ready for bed, she wondered if coming to Gotham had been a good idea at all. It hurt to be apart from him those first few months, but it seemed that it hurt more to be here knowing it was not to last.

This was a mistake, she decided lying down to rest. I shall depart by week's end

It was not a noise or light that awoke her, but a scent. Suddenly terrified when her now-especially acute sense detected the unmistakable odor of blood, Talia shot up into a sitting position. Heart pounding, she felt around the sheets then scrambled to reach for the light switch. Her greatest fear... If fate had seen fit to punish her lie by making it the truth...

But the sheets remained unstained, and when she finally caught her breath, Talia heard movement outside. Considering the loft sat twenty seven stories above ground with no balconies or ledges save the few inches around the windows, there was only a handful of people who could be outside with only one particularly likely. Still relieved – and annoyed as it was three in the morning – when she threw open the curtains to let be breeze and her unexpected guest inside..

"I am impressed." She folded her arms under her breasts. "You managed to make it inside without setting off my alarm system."

Her anger such as it was fell away as soon as he looked up. From under the cowl an angry bruise was beginning to blacken the visible part of his lower right cheek. Worse, he was holding his side, and even in with the only source of light from her nightstand and the city outside, Talia could see the blood dripping between his gloved fingers.

"What happened?" She asked more gently helping him down from the window and closing the curtains behind him.

The only response she received was a groan, and Talia carefully guided him to the edge of the bed, heedless of the blood and dirt that stained a path across the carpet. He was breathing heavily, but she got the impression that it was more from exhaustion than anything else. With some maneuvering, the heavy cape and cowl fell to the floor, and she was finally able to look at his face and cupped it in her palms. The glimmer earlier was in fact just part of one massive bruise that spread from across his cheekbone almost to the far corner of his brow as if some steel pipe had connected with his face.

"Stay," Talia ordered and went into the bathroom emerging moments later with a role of gauze, bag of cotton balls, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. Heaven help her, but she was an old hand at patching him up.

Once his boots and everything above the waist was removed, Talia went to work, doing her best to remain focused not just for his sake but to distract her from the smell. Fresh cuts and bruises mixed with old scars, but the worst of it was the roughly seven inch deep cut that wrapped diagonally around his side just below the ribs. Talia meticulously cleaned the area around it with the peroxide, then folded a strip of gauze into three layers and pored the alcohol.

"This will hurt," she said before unceremoniously pressing the dressing against his flesh.

Anyone else would have screamed, but he took the pain with almost complete silence and gritted teeth. She unrolled a few more feet and began to secure the patch. Any bruised or broken ribs would also be held well in place by the tightly wound band. When she was satisfied with her work, Talia stepped back and looked down at him.

"Now, you will tell me what happened." Please do not lie to me again, Beloved...

He took a breath. "The usual: two attempted robberies, an assault, and an attempted murder. Pretty quiet by Gotham's standards."

She'd never hated this city more, but at the moment that was not her concern. "You mean to tell me that some... thugs did this to you?" He bit his lip, oddly uncomfortable. Talia planted her hands on her hips. "You were unbalanced then. Perhaps from our earlier... quarrel?"

"It happens. I'm fine."

"If you were 'fine', you would have returned to your own home instead of coming to me."

"Your place was closer."

Talia wanted to slap him. This was one of the main reasons she realized that their relationship was not to be: when she was around, he constantly put himself in danger on her behalf. He'd been nearly killed protecting her from Qayin. Balancing the Batman and a normal family seemed all but impossible. Still he was so... hurt. Her heart softened.

"Lie down," she instructed. "You may stay the night. Since you are here already, you might as well remain and spare Jason the worst of this sight."

"I don't want to imposes..."

"It is a very large bed."

Bruce opened his eyes with the very first rays of the sun less than three hours later. The moment of disorientation quickly passed as memories of the night returned to him. The covers he lay atop were crisp and fresh, and when he turned his head slightly, he saw that Talia was still sleeping only a few inches away. There was nothing particularly compromising about their positions with him a safe distance and layer of sheets between them, but she was so close...

Slowly, doing his best not to disturb her or his injuries, Bruce rolled over to his side and really looked at her. It was so rare that he had the chance to study her like this, with her barriers completely down. Waves of long chocolate-brown hair were scattered about the pillow and her bare shoulders, the rest of her body clad in a flowing white nightgown, not unlike the one she'd worn – however briefly – on their wedding night. His eyes traced the lines of her long dark lashes, followed the curve of her neck and lips slightly parted in sleep, and though he knew he shouldn't, watched the steady rise and fall of the swell of her breasts.

She truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Suddenly despite himself, Bruce frowned and forced himself to look at her with a detective's eye, without allowance for distraction. Something felt... off. He took in her body as a whole, unable to put his finger on the problem for a while before it finally hit him: she looked... soft. No man who had ever laid eyes on Talia could have called her unfeminine. Despite her combat skills, she had more than a few qualities he might have almost called girly. Certainly she'd always had curves. But a body that kept up with intense combat training was usually defined by lean muscle regardless of gender. Talia had always had that, but now...

He ran a featherlight touch across her bare arm, and the silky smooth olive skin beneath his fingers easily dimpled. When the touch reached her breast, she winced and shifted in her sleep. Bruce pulled back giving her room to awaken slowly. It took a few minutes, but finally her eyes fluttered open, and she focused on his face. Two fingers reached up to trace the stubble from his unhurt cheek down to his jaw, followed by a sleepy smile.

"I prefer you clean-shaven, Beloved."

"I know."

She sniffed. "I also prefer you free of morning breath."

"Sorry. Forgot my toothbrush in the other utility belt."

"Then it is fortunate for you I travel prepared. There is a spare in the bathroom."

He didn't move but continued to watch her impassively. To the untrained eye, she might have appeared perfectly fine, even at ease, but he noted the very slight shallowness in her breathing as if... as if she was trying to fight back nausea. Bruce frowned.

"Are you alright?"

"Perfectly." But her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Go wash."

The bathroom was spotless which was unsurprising considering this was the first time she'd been in Gotham in well over a year. He turned on the facet and let the water run but didn't actually reach for anything for a moment. Bruce stared at his reflection. Was he imagining things? If he hadn't... He couldn't begin to put it into words. He waited for the anger to come...

It didn't.

Too many questions... Too many... emotions...

He needed more information. Most of all he had to be sure.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Bruce had composed himself to the point where none of his racing thoughts showed. Talia was also up and dressed, this time in dark brown pants and a tan top. Her color appeared to return somewhat. She was picking up the scattered remains of of his costume but looked up when he reentered.

"I presume you have some civilian clothing with you."

He nodded. "If you don't mind giving me a lift back..."

The Porsche pulled up to the front door of the manor less than a half hour later, but Talia didn't bother killing the engine. Bruce looked at the digital clock on the dashboard that read two minutes past six. It was a Monday, which meant Jason would be getting up for school any minute now. Alfred was no doubt already up making breakfast.

"Why don't you come in?"

She hesitated. "I do not think that is wise, Beloved. Your son..."

"...was curious about you, anyway." He pointed out. "Come on. You patched me up and let me crash at your place. The least I can do is treat you to some coffee and breakfast."

He tried not to be obvious about how carefully he watched her reaction to the offer, but after a moment of thought she complied and turned down the ignition. They both got out. As he predicted, Alfred was in the kitchen. The smell of coffee and maple syrup was in the air.

"Ah, Master Jason, just in time..." the old man started but stopped as soon as he turned and saw him. "Master Bruce! Thank heavens you're alright. And Miss Talia. How wonderful to see you again. You look lovely as ever."

She smiled. "Thank you, Alfred."

"I presume we have you to thank for bringing him back to us."

Talia looked him over with a critical gaze. "He would have returned. Most likely."

"My thanks nonetheless." The butler inclined his head. "Would you care for some breakfast? The pancakes are nearly ready, and there is a fresh pot of coffee that just finished brewing. Or something else, if you prefer."

She sat, looking a bit hesitant, almost uncomfortable. "Do you still have some of that wonderful herbal tea? As I recall it was divine. If it is no trouble..."

"Of course not," Alfred looked pleased. "I am glad to see someone appreciates it."

"We shallow Americans only recognize overpriced chain coffee," Bruce quipped, but he didn't fail to take the mental note. He looked around. "Where's Jason?"

"He should be down any moment now."

No sooner had he spoken then the rhythmic patter of feet could be heard running down the stairs. Obviously in no hurry to be ready for school, Jason jogged into the kitchen in the same gray sweatpants and over-sized shirt bearing a stylized devil logo he liked to sleep in. His hair stuck out at odd angles. He skidded across the hardwood floor of the hallway in his socks but came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen doorway. The boy stared, and a sudden silence fell across the room. Bruce cleared his throat. It was his house after all, so the introductions fell to him.

"Jason," he looked at the boy. "This is Talia. Remember the friend I was telling you about."

The woman rose, smiling politely. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Jason. I..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know who you are, lady," Jason interrupted and snatched one of the pancakes from the tray much to Alfred's dismay. "You're the daughter of that Ra's al Ghul guy who thinks he's a world savior but really he's just another wacko terrorist. Oh, and he," the boy jabbed his thumb at in his direction, "is way hung up on you. What?" He looked at Bruce. "You think I was down in the cave playing vid games?"

The man wondered about every possible way this meeting could have gone wrong and realized that all of them had just happened. Talia appeared too shocked to speak. Alfred was giving the boy a disapproving look to which Bruce added his own.

"If you're going to be rude, you can go back upstairs and finish... start getting ready for school," he said pointedly.

"Pftt, gladly." Jason didn't look too sorry.

When he left with Alfred only steps behind, Talia finally looked at him. "Charming boy."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, we're still working on manners. I'm really sorry about that."

"Why?" She asked coolly. "He only believes as you do, and your beliefs are nothing I am unaware of. I suppose I should be flattered that you remain 'hung up'."

Oh, this just keeps getting better and better...

He'd have to have a talk with Jason, but she was right. There wasn't any particular part about what he said that Bruce would have outright dismissed as false. It was just that 'subtlety' was not a word in Jason's vocabulary which didn't serve him in this case. When dealing Ra's, a certain amount of respect always helped. With Talia it was not just a cultural or gender given, but... well, Bruce would talk to him.

"Look," he tried. "I didn't say anything is different suddenly." Except it might really be... "But you're only here for a short while," unless I find a reason for you to stay, "and I don't want to spend the entire time fighting."

"Then are we to forget who we are?" she asked quietly. "Has that not always been the rift between us?"

"Yes," he agreed. "But I think we can manage to set it aside for two weeks."