*A/N: So… I haven't received any feedback on the last two chapters at all… I'm just going to suppose you all felt 'Eh' when reading it and keep going, 'cause I really want to finish this fic. Again, please, please, please, leave me a tiny review. It will only take ten seconds and I really want to know how you found it. Anyway, happy reading!*

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bruce hardly ever had any dreams. Most of the times, he saw himself running in the dark and hearing a scary laugh here or there or he'd recreate the scene of his parents' shooting. That night, though, was different.

Everything was black and white. He was in his formal black tuxedo, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He turned around to see that he was standing where Oliver was standing some hours ago. On the front row of the seats, his parents were sitting, dressed for the occasion. He felt as if he wanted to say many things, but his dream-self simply went on with observing the guests. The wedding march song echoed around and the bride started walking on the aisle. She had no father by her side, but walked proudly on her own. The veil was way too thick for him to see her face but watching her, he felt oddly tranquil and happy. He turned his gaze towards his father. The man had a smile full of content on his face and was looking directly at Bruce, nodding in approval. He turned to see the bride for a split second, then turned to Bruce again and said "You don't meet a girl like that every dynasty." As the bride approached, Bruce turned to her as she ascended the stairs. Once she was next to him, he handed her the bouquet and held her hand, helping her remove the veil.

They removed the veil and everything suddenly got colorful. It was Diana underneath, naturally, but not happy or radiant as one would expect a bride to be. She was looking at him, angry and full of tears. Her jaw was shaking, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were red, as tears were streaming down. Every tear that fell on the bouquet turned the white lily it touched black. And she kept looking at him, saying nothing. Bruce lifted his hand to caress her cheek but she slapped it away, growling. The tears that now fell on her dress left dark, blood-like spots on it.

"Diana, what's wrong?" He said.

"Everything's wrong!" She shrieked, throwing the bouquet down and turning to run away. Bruce chased her, but she was quick. She was holding her dress to run without tripping and it flowed all around her. Bruce could see that the burgundy spots were now expanding, leaving clear stains, that were getting wider and wider as she ran. In horror, he watched as almost all of her dress was getting soaked in her blood. He shouted after her, but she wouldn't stop. Suddenly, she came to a halt, and so did he, a couple of meters behind. She turned to face him and looked him dead in the eye for some moments. She appeared as if she had been stabbed everywhere and the tears that were running down her cheeks, though scarce, were blood-like too and left their marks on her face before falling off her chin.

"You are doing this to yourself." She stated in a crazily calm voice, before her face turned into a mask of agony and she folded in half in pain, falling to the ground. Bruce dived to get to her but got caught up in a black whirlwind. When the whirlwind stopped, he was watching his reflection on a window. He wasn't young; he saw the miserable face of his older self, the one he had the pleasure to meet in a time-traveling mission some years ago. He turned his look to his wrinkled hands, only to see that he was caressing the petals of some black, dried-up lilies.

He woke up with a gasp, lifting his torso up and breathing erratically. He was sweating heavily and couldn't seem to grasp what he had just seen. Instinctively, he threw his bed sheet off himself and –not even bothering grabbing a robe- went straight for the Bat Cave. He accessed the League's tracking system and saw Diana's spot shining at the Base. He sighed, letting his head fall in his hands and getting his mind together. What was that dream? There were so many things going on; his parents, the wedding, bloody Diana, his older self… For one moment he pondered looking dream interpretations up on the Internet, but scolded himself for even thinking of something so…silly. Yet, he couldn't stop thinking about how all that must have had a certain meaning. Dreams, after all, are often projections of the subject's subconscious; desires, fears, experiences, random things that stuck to it and many more that were yet to be explored.

He sat back and closed his eyes, deciding to take everything one by one and explain it. The clearest of them all was the marriage to Diana. Although he was far from wanting to get married, he could understand that his subconscious, triggered by the wedding he had attended, shaped his affection towards Diana into a marriage. His parents, then. He thought that maybe he…wanted them to be present to an important day of his life? He couldn't exactly place it. His father, though, seemed to be very happy of his choice of companion, phrasing something he had seen in Alfred's movies. Seeing his father like that had really troubled, although not as much as the image of Diana bleeding out. That had actually terrified him. It was, he supposed, metaphorical; she was bleeding mentally, hurting. Even though he could understand why she was hurting, the image of her bloody tears and bloody wedding dress as she fell down seemed to linger in his mind too much. Moving on to his older self, he could only interpret it as his prediction and self-induced curse that he will end up old and alone, living a loveless life, mourning over what he could have had.

Many crushing emotions were starting to crawl up inside him, but he pushed them away when the Bat Cave's door opened and Alfred entered.

"It's six in the morning, sir. You never wake up at six when you go to sleep by two. Had a nightmare, maybe?" He asked, descending the stairs.

"You could say so." Bruce simply replied, rubbing his eyes.

Alfred left a silk robe on his workstation. "Care to tell me what it was about?"

"No need to."

"Very well. Shall I bring you your breakfast or will you head up to bed again?"

"Bring it."

"As you wish, sir."

"Wait. I think I'll have it upstairs."

Alfred nodded and they got up to the kitchen together. Bruce took a seat at the table, always frowning deeply, and supported his head on his left hand.

"Anything troubling you in particular, sir?" Alfred asked, placing some croissants on a porcelain plate, always keeping an eye on Bruce.

Bruce thought about not telling Alfred anything but Alfred was the only one who could answer some things for him, and always seemed to know what to say. And, in the end, if he couldn't trust Alfred, who could he trust? "Do you think my parents would have wanted me to…you know, get married and…?" Bruce asked in a low voice, his gaze unfocused.

"Your parents, sir, would have wanted nothing but you to be happy. If that is with someone else, of course they would have wanted you to find that someone."

"And what kind of someone would they describe as ideal? What kind of daughter-in-law would they want, per say?" Bruce was surprised at the questions that had suddenly popped up in his head. It wasn't like his usual self to wonder about things like these, but something about that dream had triggered them.

"Anyone you fancy, I suppose, they would accept. Now, if they could 'order' one for you, I bet your mother would have picked a woman who knows how to be classy and knows your habits well. Your father, sir…Hm." Alfred thought for a moment. "He would have wanted someone feisty and dynamic. He always liked women like that. At least that's what I think, of course."

Bruce nodded. As it seemed, Diana would have fitted all of the parental criteria. Not that it mattered, but he needed to explain why his father had nodded in approval in his dream. The image of Diana's face before she said that he was doing this to himself popped up in his head again and he cringed. It was deeply disturbing.

His mind drifted to the time he had met his older self. He hadn't mentioned anything about Diana, but he probably knew better than to interfere with the time and space continuum with giving hints about anything. He did remember, though, they way his older self looked at her; like a poor man stumbling upon a long-lost diamond. His look was a mix of nostalgia, surprise and adoration. Bruce couldn't tell if it was because he had enjoyed his life with her and missed her, or because he just couldn't forget about her even after all these years. When she vanished because the past also changed and Bruce had jumped to get her, old Bruce did flinch. He betted, though, that he would have jumped as well if his body had allowed it. Bruce remembered, then, that since they fixed what had happened, the future had probably changed, so nothing of that ever happened and he had to make his own future now.

Alfred placed his usual breakfast tray in front of him and took a seat next to him, holding a small cup of English tea.

"How come you asked these things, master Bruce?" Alfred asked. "Was it your dream?" Bruce nodded. "Well, I am no expert, of course, but I do know that dreams this intense shouldn't usually be ignored. I know that most of the times, we see what we fear, or what we want, or even both simultaneously, and there are also cases of prophetic dreams."

"Come on, Alfred."

"I know it may sound stupid, sir, but many people have experienced such dreams. Even your own mother."

That sparked Bruce's interest. "What with my mother?"

"She never let a dream go unnoticed. Once, she woke up and told me that she had seen a bad dream with a fish and had an unpleasant feeling about it. She urged your father to be very, very careful that day and you know what happened?"

"Tell me."

"There was, indeed, an accident when your father was coming home, and he would have gotten caught up in it as well, if he hadn't urged the driver to drive extra slowly too."

"I see."

"She also had a bad dream on…the day as well…"

"Oh." Bruce said, sipping some of his coffee.

"So, we see, Master Bruce, that sometimes your dreams warn you about something that you can change, or simply give you notice of something you can't escape. Of course, most of the times they are irrelevant with anything, I must admit, but who knows how to tell the cases apart."

Bruce nodded again, finishing up his breakfast and leaving to go to the Bat Cave a little more confused than when he left it.

*A small chapter to see how Bruce's inner self copes with everything… Apparently not so well. What will he do then? It remains to be seen.

Please, kind readers, do not leave my in the darkness! *dramatic voice* Give me something to know how you liked/disliked it. Thanks for reading so far!*