Sorry for the delay, a lot going on. But next chapter is already half-way written, so I hope to get it to you by Friday.

Larry Boodry: Thank you! Yeah, their dynamic is great. I find myself partial to both the 'love' and the 'hate' parts of the classic 'love-hate' relationship they have.

angellcakes23: Nothing too serious, don't worry. It just helps propel this and the next chapter to where I need them to go. Thanks, I really try take these relationships seriously, so this story is not just about Bruce and Selina, but Bruce and Alfred, and Alfred and Selina, and frankly everyone and everyone, but some in more subtle ways than others.

AUSTINROX5: Glad you're enjoying! Appreciate the suggestion, but I prefer to deal with these characters a little more delicately, I find that their chemistry comes from the subtlety.

CHAPTER 10

Bruce groggily woke the following morning to a sharp rapping on his door.

"Come in," he mumbled, looking around in a daze. He was in bed. The sun was streaming in through the window. He had probably just slept 16 hours.

"Morning, Master B," Alfred said, opening the door, and stepping into the room, a tray in his hand. "How are you feeling?"

Bruce squinted at Alfred, noticing he was carrying poached eggs, a glass of water and an Aspirin, as if his butler already knew the answer to that question.

"Not much better," Bruce admitted. "Maybe a little worse. My throat is about the same, and my whole body is aching."

"Mind you, you did fall down a well yesterday," Alfred set the tray down beside Bruce's bed.

"Oh." Bruce had forgotten about that. He felt mildly feverish.

"I knew this was coming," Alfred said brusquely. "You've been worked to the bone the past two years, and now your body has been given a break, it's taking a rest."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Alfred's conjecture.

"Don't give me that look. What you need right now is rest."

"I just slept 16 hours," Bruce argued, rolling out of bed.

"You don't need to be sleeping to rest," Alfred scolded. "In a hurry to get somewhere?"

Bruce's shoulders dropped. He leaned back against his bed.

"Come now," Alfred said, not unkindly. "Why don't you sit in the living room, I've got something for you."

Bruce sat on the sofa, leafing through the photo albums Alfred had given him. There were multiple photos of his parents around the house but seeing so many pictures of them in one spot, concentrated into three albums, was a different experience. Alfred had stumbled across his parents' wedding album and thought to look for some more. He had found a collection of photos of Bruce as a baby, as well as another album filled with odds-and-ends from Bruce's childhood until the age of twelve.

He started with the wedding photos from thirty years ago. His mother looked very elegant in a long-sleeved lace gown, staring wistfully into the distance in some photos, in others examining her bouquet of red roses, hair pinned up, pearls dangling from her ears. His father, Thomas, looked very handsome in a burgundy suit. His parents were already older in these photos. They had gotten married rather late, both in their mid-thirties. Then there were pictures of them together at the altar. They looked happy. Not smitten. Not madly in love. But happy, almost content.

Bruce wondered what their relationship had been like. From what he remembered they had always been politely and warmly affectionate. He did not recall any blatant displays of love – no kissing, no passionately intense gazes – but then again, he had only been twelve when they died, it was possible he had missed that in the innocence of youth. But it brought to mind one long-forgotten memory. When he was eight or so, he had found his mother crying in the kitchen. She had not told him why she was crying, but he knew that his dad had been away on a business trip for over a month at the time. He hoped that they had really loved each other.

He came to a close-up of their hands, a large diamond set on his mother's fingers, along with a wedding band. He wondered how long they had known each other for. He wished he knew more about them.

There were some people in the wedding photos that he did not recognize. His grandparents on both sides had been dead for a while, but he found a picture of what must have been Martha Wayne with her parents, and a picture of Thomas Wayne with his mother. Bruce's father had an older brother Henry who was still alive and living somewhere upstate, but they hadn't spoken in ages. Henry was pictured in a few of the photos though, looking much younger. He had white hair now, not the thick black hair pictured in the photos. Martha had been an only child.

"Alfred," Bruce called as he heard the butler's footsteps passing by the living room door. He was beginning to feel warm again. Alfred looked into the room expectantly.

"You called, Master B?"

"How did my parents meet?" Bruce shifted into a reclining position, feet up, and pulled a couch pillow over. It felt cool against his hot skin.

Alfred tilted his head thoughtfully, coming to stand opposite Bruce on the couch. "Well, let's see. Your father had just finished medical school when they met. Your mother was raising money for charities in Gotham and asked him out to a business lunch. Your father was smitten and kept telling her he might have a deal go through, so they could meet up again and he could pledge more money to her charities." Alfred smiled. "Your father donated a lot of money before he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out."

"Did they love each other?"

"Certainly. They were quite a pragmatic couple, the two of them. But they did love each other. Very much."

Bruce nodded slowly. "How long did it take for them to get married?"

"Well, your father courted your mother for four years with charity donations before finally asking her out. And they dated for two years before getting engaged, and it took another two years to get married. Probably would have gotten married sooner, but your dad was going through a bit of a crisis. He was a bit of a 'playboy', you might say. It took him a while to come round and be ready for commitment. And your mother, well, she was always worried people thought she was dating your father for his money. But they both got over their fears eventually and tied the knot." Alfred suddenly frowned in concern. "Why the interest? Not thinking of popping the question yourself?" He asked suspiciously.

In his feverish state, it took Bruce a moment to realize what Alfred was talking about.

"What? No. No. G-d, no." He put a hand to his head. He had not ever thought about marriage seriously. He always assumed it would happen to him one day but had never been in a place to consider it for the obvious reason that he would need someone to consider it with. And while Selina was the only female he really had any kind of relationship with, they were far from being ready for marriage. Not individually and certainly not to each other. Not where their relationship was holding. "I don't think either of us are quite ready for that," he said slowly.

"Good," Alfred said. "Because I don't either. And I know you're in a bit of a crisis yourself, but I don't think marriage is the solution. Not to this problem," he shook his head.

Bruce pursed his lips. "Did my dad ever wonder what to do with his life?"

Alfred considered. "Come to think of it, he certainly did. Probably a bit older than you, he was. Spent a lot of time partying, hanging out with girls, and then he got into a serious car crash. Nearly killed him." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think that shook his world a bit. He went abroad, visited some plague-stricken countries, a few Buddhist Temples, did a bit of meditation. Came back, went straight to medical school." Alfred frowned. "Actually, come to think of it- no. No, it wouldn't still be around."

"What?" Bruce asked.

Alfred shook his head. "No. I thought - but it wouldn't still be - that was years ago."

Bruce waited for Alfred to continue, but his butler was somewhere else, muttering to himself.

"I wonder if I could – would they even remember?" Alfred stared pointedly into the distance, before turning to look at Bruce. "I'll be back. Just need to check into it. Could be interesting." He turned on his heels and left the room.

Bruce stared after him for a moment in confusion, then sighed, pulling the second album toward him. He leafed through it, looking at pictures of his mom in the hospital, holding a wrapped bundle that must have been him. She looked pale in the pictures, makeup-less, tired, but happy. Baby-Bruce had a head full of tousled dark hair, but was sleeping in most of the pictures. His dad made a few appearances in the album. Unlike what one might expect, Thomas Wayne was not beaming; he did not seem particularly overjoyed at the birth of his son. He wasn't unhappy, certainly, but his smiles seemed strained, almost forced. Bruce recalled that he had been born in a last-minute c-section, one that had been very difficult on his mom. He wondered if that had anything to do with his father's weary smiles.

Briiinnggg.

The phone rang on the wood stand beside the couch. Bruce reached over to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Bruce. It's Jim Gordon." There was a brief hesitation. "Listen, I've got the name of the guy you'll be tailing. Derek Runyen. He's the one who'll be grabbing the necklace and getting it down the drain pipe."

Gordon explained briefly how it was necessary to keep an eye on Runyen the entire time without getting too close. There would be an officer tailing each man, and a few extras in the room for safety, but they would not have any earpieces or communication devices because it would look too suspicious. But Gordon explained that with the necklace being a mock-up and the actual arrest being made outside the building, it shouldn't be a problem.

"Your job is to keep an eye on Runyen, and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. He shouldn't, but if anything odd happens, you tackle him and keep him down."

"Got it," Bruce said. He couldn't believe that the heist they had been building up to for the previous few months would be coming to an end soon. Only four more days. He was still in a feverish groggy state, but calculated that he should be at 100%,or at least 95% by the time the gala rolled around on Thursday.

Bruce and Gordon finished speaking and Gordon made to hang up.

"Bruce?" Gordon said suddenly.

"Mm?"

"I, uh, am sure you already know, but just wanted to reaffirm that we've appreciated your help tremendously over the past few years."

"Thank you," Bruce said sincerely. They exchanged good-byes and hung up.

Bruce lay back on his sofa, steadily feeling worse. It felt like there was a rock lodged in his throat every time he swallowed, and his skin was burning with heat. He pulled the final album toward him and opened up to the first page. He found himself staring at the first picture of a 3-year-old Bruce, his mother, and father, all holding cotton candy at an amusement park. His head lolled to the side and he jerked awake, realizing he had just drifted off. He turned the page, looking at a beaming toddler Bruce with cottage cheese all over his face. After a few moments where his eyelids kept drooping, he finally gave in to the exhaustion and rested his head on a couch pillow, falling asleep.

Briiingggg.

Bruce jerked awake in surprise, looking around. He was still lying on the sofa, a photo album on the floor next to him. He noticed someone (Alfred) had draped a blanket over him, which was helpful, because he now felt cold shivers instead of burning heat.

Briiingggg.

The phone was ringing. Bruce reached over blearily to pick it up.

"Hello?" His voice was thick from just having woken up.

"Hey – Hey, man. It's me, Tag." Tag spoke with his usual nervous, jittery tone.

Bruce frowned. Why was Tag calling him? Had no one at the police station told him they weren't working together anymore?

"Uhh…" Bruce started to speak, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Tag. You know we're not working together, right? I think you can speak to Gordon about any updates. Or at least he can direct you." He looked at his watch. It was 12:00 PM.

"What? Oh. No. I'm not – I'm not calling about that. I was just, uh - well, yeah. Listen, man. I guess – I mean, I know it's kind of awkward – especially after our last conversation," he paused, chuckling nervously. "I guess, I was wondering – is that offer of you paying for my college tuition still open?" The last sentence came out in a rush. It took Bruce a minute to decipher it in his hazy state.

Tag began to speak. "You know, obviously if it's not, that's totally okay. I would get that. I told you no, and then I come back asking for it again, so I could see why-"

"No. No, Tag. I'd be thrilled to pay for your college tuition." Bruce shook his head, trying to clear it, to make sense of what was going on. This was the last thing he had expected from a call right now.

"Yeah? Really, man? Wow, thanks." Tag chuckled again, excitement mingled with nervousness. He rushed on, eager to explain. "Because, y'know, I just broke up with my girlfriend, and, uh, well, I just moved out, and now I'm staying with my sister, and she lives in this tiny apartment and-" He paused to take a gulp of air. "And I was thinking, y'know, about ways I could get a nice apartment. For me. And for my sister. And I kind of realized – like, all the things I could do now would be pretty short term, but if I got some kind of education, then maybe, like, maybe long term I could actually have a future and like, y'know, wouldn't be living month to month and-" he was speaking fast, clearly nervous.

Bruce broke in, still trying to come to terms with it all. He did not understand what he had missed. Is that not what he had been talking about from the beginning? "Of course, Tag. You're quite intelligent. I think you have a lot to give."

Bruce could almost see Tag nodding eagerly on the other line. "Yeah, man, I really think I do," he said earnestly. "You know, I think also I'll get accepted pretty easily, like, I have a good background and everything." He continued, rambling on. "Like, we just found out - me and the guys - that cutting the alarms wouldn't be as easy as we thought. It involves this new technology that puts up an electronic perimeter around the alarm triggers, so if anyone even tries to get at the alarm triggers, they've already tipped off security, and everyone thought that was it, y'know? But it turns out, I thought about it, and I figured out a way to momentarily trick the outer electronic perimeter into inactivity by feeding it signals similar enough to the ones it's already working with that will not only bypass the outer triggers but will make the actual alarms dormant." Tag spoke all this rapidly, almost in one breath and added proudly, "Y'know, I think I'm the only person in a thousand-mile radius that knows how to work these."

Bruce was struggling to concentrate. He didn't see how that would get Tag into college, as impressive as it might be. "Wow, Tag, that's great." He paused, then said quickly, before Tag could launch into another tirade. "Listen, Tag. I'm, uh, actually not feeling great right now. Why don't we talk after the heist and we can set up your tuition and everything then?"

"Oh." Tag sounded a little disappointed, as if there had been more he wanted to say. He recovered quickly. "Yeah, that's cool man. I'll call you afterwards and we can talk then. Thanks again!" He hung up.

Bruce set the phone down, feeling completely baffled. That was a total unexpected turn of events. What had just happened? He muttered something about people not making any sense and rested his head once more on the sofa. He was sleeping in seconds.

Next chapter: Bruce and Selina finally sit down and talk...