There is a lot language and a lot weird things happening under the influence of alcohol in this chapter. Just a warning. :)

Dear Jason,

I'm so tired.

I just want to forget it all.

-Hannah

The hike to Bruce's country house from the sign was a little less than a mile. The road was muddy, and the rain pounded on her body mercilessly. She took in a deep breath, then shivered.

It was cold.

Only a little bit longer though.

Little rocks mixed into the mud got into her shoes, making her winch with each step she took. As she drew closer and closer, the house came into her view.

The house was like his Gotham home, regal and old. Only this one seemed larger, more beautiful, and more fitting for the Wayne legacy.

Hannah brushed her wet hair from her eyes, trying to keep her vision from blurring up. She sniffled.

Stop crying, dammit!

Finally, she stumbled up the long driveway of the house, and managed to reach the front door. She let out a deep breath, panting heavily. Her whole body felt so sore; it was unbearable. She didn't even know if Bruce or Alfred would be here. Raising her hand, she banged on the door.

Nothing.

She banged again.

Nothing.

Giving up, she sat down on the porch, covering her head.

At least she wasn't in the rain anymore . . . She let out a sob, tears trickling down her cheeks. Blotting them away, her hands went up and down her face.

"Miss. Hochberg?"

Hannah looked up, and standing in the warm light of the house, stood a tall silhouette. The figure bent down, and hands reached out for her.

"Please stand up. You're not well!"

"Alfred?" she mumbled.

"Come inside! Please!"

Alfred helped Hannah to her feet, and escorted her inside the house. It was a great deal warmer in the beautiful mansion. Unlike the other house, this one was brightly lit, and somewhat homey. From what Hannah knew, this is where a young Bruce spent most of his time with his parents, and that it hadn't been changed much since. Maybe it was the strong yet graceful touch of Martha Wayne that had given the house this feel, and her son had just preserved it.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred called, pushing Hannah further and further into the house "Master Bruce, where are you?"

He dragged Hannah into the kitchen, making her sit down in a chair. Neatly brushing the rest of her hair out of her face, he knelt down, and tugged her shoes off. Mud and water spilled out of them and got all over Alfred's clothes. The butler didn't seem to care, however, for he then pulled off her socks. He left them in a pile on the floor.

"You must be freezing," the older man muttered "Let me make you some tea!"

He jumped to his feet, and put a kettle on the stove. Turning the dial to high, he pulled out a container of loose leaf tea and a mug.

"It'll be just a moment."

"Alfred? Wait, Hannah?"

Bruce appeared in front of her, and knelt down.

"What are you doing? You're all wet!"

"I thought that was obvious," she mumbled.

Bruce frowned, and ran his hand up and down her arms, trying to create some warmth.

"You're freezing," Bruce murmured "Alfred, go upstairs and get her something to change into."

He gently placed a hand on his cheek.

"Mmmm, you feel a little feverish, Hannah."

Hannah smiled weakly. He grabbed a cloth from a cabinet, wet it under the sink, and put it to her forehead to clean up the blood. By this time, the cut had stopped bleeding, and it was caked with blood. The tea kettle whistled on the stove, so Bruce sprang to his feet.

"I'm not good and making tea but—" Bruce snatched the tea kettle, and poured some tea over the tea bag into the mug "This'll be better than nothing."

He handed it to Hannah, who tried to take it, but her hands shook violently. Bruce frowned, and set the mug down. Gently taking her hands, he rubbed them together in his hands.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mm?"

"Hannah, listen to me. What's wrong? Why are you here?"

"I—uh—"

At this point, Hannah was starting to shiver even more. She also felt a little light headed and sickly. Bruce noticed that her cheeks were starting to look flushed.

"My c—car. It crashed, and—I—I walked here."

Bruce's brow furrowed up.

"Why were you in the area?"

"I—I—"

"Shh, it's okay. Just drink your tea and stay here for a second."

Hannah nodded as he got to his feet. He came back in a few seconds, holding something.

"I—uh—don't have any clothes your size, so this'll have to work."

He handed her two things, which she took thankfully. It was a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"You can change. I'll be back."

As soon as he left, she slipped out of her wet clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Bruce's gray sweatpants were enormous on her, pooling around her feet. She pulled on the drawstrings, and they were still too big, but at least they weren't slipping off her body that way. The shirt hung loosely on her shoulders and came down to the middle of her thighs. One of her shoulder slipped out of the collar. The clothes smelled like Bruce . . . musky, warm and comforting, something she wouldn't have imagined from someone who seemed so . . . well, like Bruce.

She took a sip of her tea, savoring the hot flavor rolling over her tongue. She choked. It didn't seem right. It scaled her tongue, and left a weird taste in her mouth.

"Hey."

Bruce was standing in the doorway.

"Do you want me—uh—Alfred to drive you home? We can leave as soon as you start warming up and—"

"Can I stay?"

"Stay? Yeah, if you want. Alfred can make up one of the guest rooms."

"T—thanks."

"Come to the library. We can wait there while Alfred's getting that all set up with you."

He offered her his arm, which she took. Once they got into the library, they sat down on a couch. Bruce sighed as Hannah curled up on the couch. He sat their awkwardly for a few minutes, watching her shift around uncomfortably.

"You want a book?"

"Mm . . . No."

"Okay."

Hannah sat up, and pulled absentmindedly on a curl, which was now drying. Her eyes gazed around the library, going up and down each bookshelf. Her turning gaze stopped.

"Can I have some?"

Bruce looked.

"That?"

"Yeah, a drink actually sounds really good right about now."

He frowned, staring at his desk. On it was sitting a couple glasses and a bottle of whisky.

"That might not be a good idea—"

"Holy shit, Bruce. Everybody has been telling me what to do! Not you too!"

"Okay then."

He grabbed a glass, and filled it half way.

"Come on, a little more!"

"Hannah—"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

She glared at him intently. He sighed, and finished filling the glass. Bruce could tell that she was slightly unstable, which was slightly odd. Usually, she seemed so cool and collected, and although she was feisty, she was never rash. She never cursed excessively either. Maybe she was feeling sick because of her walk in the rain . . . He wasn't sure. He wasn't a doctor that could just analyze people and their emotions with expertise, but from what he did know, he could tell she was not herself. All the little quirks of hers he had memorized over the years were gone. She wasn't tapping her fingers the way she did to before, and she didn't dash for the bookshelf when she first arrived. She didn't seem embarrassed about the way she looked or the fact his shirt was falling off her body. Bruce bit his lip. The way the media portrayed him was incorrect. All the girls he had "things" with were all fabricated or done just to throw people off his trail. He just simply didn't care. Still, the differences in her person right now were more interesting than the way she'd been before. She seemed like a mad person with her hair frizzing up at the roots, and her shoulder sticking out of her shirt.

He handed her the glass, which she basically snatched out of his hands. She lifted it to her lips, and gulped half of the glass down. She choked, then wiped her hand on her mouth.

"Wow that is strong."

"It's whisky."

"I know, smartass."

She finished the rest of her glass.

"You good?"

"Pour me some more."

Bruce obliged, and handed her a new glass. Hannah chugged that down, and jumped to her feet. She sighed, and finished the rest of the liquid. He could already tell she was getting tipsy.

"Hannah, sit down . . ."

"No . . ."

She giggled, and looked into her glass.

"I'm such a lightweight."

"I'll say."

She sighed dramatically.

"I guess Imma gonna stay here. Parents hate me, Lex hates me, and you—You hate me don't you?"

Her words were starting to slur, and Bruce could see that she was swaying back and forth. She grabbed the whisky bottle from Bruce, and tried to pour herself another glass. Her hands shook, just like before. She sighed.

"I don't think you should have anymore—"

"Why not? Lex says the apocalypse is coming."

"Excuse me?"

"It's not a time," Hannah said mockingly "It's a place."

She swayed back and forth again. Bruce walked towards her and snatched her wrists.

"What did Lex say, Hannah?"

"What?"

"Hannah, pay attention to me! This is serious!"

Hannah threw her head back and giggled. Her giggling stopped though as she gazed up at Bruce.

"Di—did anyone tell you—you actually look—look like Jason?"

"Please—"

"You have his eyes—and—and hair. Well, kind of. You're—uh—sorta going gray, my friend."

She reached up and brushed his hair back.

"Jason smiled though. I don't think I've ever seen you smile when you're not drunk."

"The irony."

She laughed, and spun around, lifting the empty glass over her head. The shirt had slipped off her shoulder, so she yanked it back into place again.

"I am feeling fucking dizzy."

"Sit down then. Hannah, could you tell me about what Lex said?"

"W—what? Lex? What about him?"

"Apocalypse—never mind, I'll ask you later."

She smiled cheekily.

"Jason, Bruce, Jason, Bruce."

"Give me the glass."

"C'mon—you—you're no fun. Don't be a party pooper!"

She shrieked giddily. Hannah looked as if she was going to bounce off the walls.

"It is so hot . . . Oh shit, It's hot! B—B—but what about you? What about you?"

"You're hot because you've had too much whisky."

"Too much whisky? That's not even a thing!"

A shaky hand lifted the glass into the air.

"Raise a glass to freedom!" she sang "Something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you, raise a glass for the four of us—"

She paused.

"Or two of us. Th—three counting Alfred!"

"Dammit, Hannah—"

"I feel so much better! I—Imma not lonely anymore!"

She threw herself down onto the couch, and patted on it.

"Sit down!" she exclaimed, gesturing for Bruce to sit down next to her "Sit down!"

"No."

"Why not? It—it's not fair! You are s—s—so mean!"

Bruce groaned, and sat down next to her. He tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, and when he did, it was so his eyes were on the door. Alfred should've been here by now. He glanced at Hannah, who was now staring down into the bottom of the glass. Her lip trembled a little bit, but other than that, she sat completely still.

"Hannah?"

"What the fuck do you want?"

She looked up, her eyes watery. The glare in her eyes was angry, and made Bruce believe that the woman could spit fireballs if she desired to do so.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Her eyes caught a hold of the whisky bottle, which she reached for. Once her fingers curled around it, she pulled it close to her body. She put the bottle to her lips, and took an enormous sip.

"No!" Bruce yelled, grabbing the bottle from her.

"Yes."

"No more alcohol, okay? You're going to have hell of a hangover tomorrow."

"Mmmm no!"

She slouched, the shirt slipping off her shoulders once again.

"I'm glad you're back," she said quietly.

"What?"

"I—Imma glad y—you are back, okay? I fucking missed you."

"Oh."

She twisted around to stare up at him. A small smile stretched across her face, and she let out a small giggle.

"Imma not alone now, r—right?"

"I guess not."

The look of scorn vanished from her eyes.

"Thank you."

"Uh, sure. Sure."

She reached up and brushed the hair off of his forehead. Her smile turned into a frown as she adjusted it, trying to smooth out the mess. If she hadn't been completely drunk she might have accomplished her purpose, but her hands were shaking and her vision was slightly blurry.

The blurry vision was a problem. Everything around her was swimming, floating around in a world where gravity was non-existent, just a lonely concept out there from someone's imagination. She couldn't see the dark brown bookshelves covered with gorgeously bound volumes, nor could she clearly see the head who's hair she was trying to fix.

It was black though, the hair. The face was blurry, but she could see the hair.

It must be Jason.

He'd come back.

She took in a deep breath, and pressed her lips against his. Her frown reversed in to a smile.

It felt like Jason, so she quickly placed her hands on his cheeks. She shifted her body, so that she could be closer, and feel warmer. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Mmm," she mumbled under her breath.

She leaned in closer, and the next thing she knew, his hands were wrapping around her waist.

She broke away and giggled. Her vision still was clogged up. She leaned down, and placed another kiss on his lips.

"I—I—Jason?" she asked, her eyes widening a little bit "I'm so glad—you're here!"

"You're drunk."

"Am not!" she complained, smacking his chest "I am not fucking drunk!"

"You can't even talk without slurring, dammit! You think I'm your fucking dead boyfriend. You're insane!"

"Don't lie to me!" she screamed "You're a fucking liar!"

"Goddamn—"

She grabbed his face, and pulled it to her's. Her lips quivered as she kissed him, begging him to kiss her back. Drunkenness is a delusion, but a beautiful one. The pictures in her head were becoming real in the fog. Anything could go. She sighed happily when she felt the lips under her's slowly start to kiss her back.

They sat there a few minutes, kissing each other slowly.

Hannah brought Jason out of his hiding; she was on the top of the world.

"I love you, Jason," she whispered, lacing her fingers though his hair.

Bruce flinched.

"This has to stop! Now!"

He pushed Hannah off of him. She fell onto the floor with a thud. For split second, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, which made Bruce's heart skip in concern. The bottle of whisky that had been pinned between them shattered on the ground. He'd dealt with drunk women before, evens one who'd thrown themselves at him or thought he was somebody else, but Hannah was one of his closest friend's daughters.

"My god Hannah! Are you okay?"

He knelt down on the ground next to her, and pushed her back up towards the couch. Tears started to fall down her face as she her eyes refocused. She turned her head a little to the side.

"Oh no!" she whimpered miserably "I broke the bottle."

Her tears turned into sobs, and her body started to shake.

"Master Bruce, what happened?" Alfred exclaimed, charging into the room.

Seeing the broken glass on the floor made the older man's eyes grow larger with shock.

"What the hell is going on?" Alfred pressed.

Bruce looked up, and smiled guiltily.

"She's drunk."

"You got her drunk? Master Bruce!"

"I'm sorry, Alfred! I really . . . didn't expect this to happen. At all."

Hannah's sobs quieted down a little bit, and she gasped for breath.

"J—J—Jason?"

Bruce stood up, and walked towards Alfred.

"She's convinced Jason is here, Alfred! Goddammit, what the hell should I do? "

"That doesn't surprise me, considering the fact you got her drunk!"

"I didn't know she was such a lightweight!"

"How much did you give her?"

"Two or three glasses maybe?"

"Of whisky? Master Bruce, that might not be a lot to you, but to the average person—oh dear, I need to clean this up. Take her upstairs will you?"

Bruce nodded.

"Come, Miss. Hochberg. Master Wayne will take you upstairs."

Hannah grunted, and rubbed her eyes sleepily. She twisted around, pulling the bottom of the shirt up to around her belly button. Alfred sighed.

"Does she ever eat?" Alfred asked Bruce, adjusting his bowtie.

"Maybe she's stressed with Lex's case."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his eyes piercing straight through Bruce.

"Ah, she's his lawyer. You must be thrilled."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Never mind that now. Take her upstairs to the first guest room, alright?"

"Alfred—"

"Alright?"

Bruce frowned.

"Okay."

He gently placed his arms under Hannah, and lifted her up. She fidgeted.

"Hold still."

"Mmmphhh, Jason? Jason?"

"It's Bruce."

Alfred snorted, and walked over to a small closet in the corner of the room, pulling out a broom and a dust pan. He knelt to the ground to start sweeping up the glass.

"Let go of me!"

"Hannah, you need to sleep. You'll feel better."

"You can be a bitch sometimes, Jas—"

"Bruce."

Hannah squirmed around as Bruce walked out of the library.

"Let go of me, you fucking bastard!"

"No."

She growled, and dug her nails into his neck. Bruce's arms tightened around her. He wasn't going to give into a completely wasted person, especially when he'd faced so many people that had beaten his body to a pulp on multiple occasions.

The next thing he knew, she was crying again. As the tears trickled down her face, she continued trying to get out of his grasp. He finally made it upstairs though, and after situating her on the king sized bed, he pulled the covers up to her chin.

Alfred showed up at the door, holding a glass of water. He set it down on the night stand.

Hannah breath already started evening out, and a few seconds later, she started to snore.

"Mr. Allen is waiting on the line for you."

Bruce rubbed his forehead, and sighed.

"I should get that."

"She'll be fine. I'll watch over her."

"Thank you."

After Bruce left the bedroom, Alfred walked over to the light switch, then flipped it downwards.

Hannah was going to have a fun time sleeping this one off.

A/N:

Hey everyone!

So, yeah. Hannah really doesn't hold her whisky . . . At all. Thus chapter was hard for me to write. I mean, a lot of it was awkward. I just really wanted to show how this whole debacle if effecting her mentally. She's starting to go off the rocker. Lex and her past with Jason is really making her crack under the pressure. She's lonely.

The lesson? Love sucks sometimes.

Aurora Nightstar - Thank you once again for your lovely review! I tried to make Bruce's story realistic, as well as his character in general. He's an interesting guy.

persin - Can do. This chapter is dedicated to you! :)

Please follow/favorite/comment. Gosh, I love those three things so so much!

Much Love,

gotmoreissuesthanvogue