Two days of preparing for her brother's funeral hadn't helped her come any closer to accepting his death. The quiet solitude, as much as Bruce and Alfred's support helped her get through the motions. She spent much of her time thinking about the brother she lost and working alongside Bruce to find the person responsible for his death.

A part of her always feared something like this would happen. She repeatedly questioned him about the wisdom of following in their fathers' footsteps. Was it worth the pain it would cause if he, too, ended up dying from a bullet fired by someone tweaked-out on meth? Ethan had been adamant, though. This was the path he wanted to take.

"Gotham needs people like me to help protect our streets."

At the time, those words made all the sense in the world. They still did if she was being honest with herself. They summed up who Ethan was as a man and a police officer. And Bruce, as well. Batman served and protected those unable to defend themselves from men like Falcone, Maroni, the drug dealers, and gang bangers.

The Scarecrow and the Joker.

Yes, things changed the night the Joker unleashed his vitriolic mayhem on the city. He took Gotham's Knight and broke him mentally, as well as physically. Broke him, she added, but he didn't destroy him.

Batman remained a symbol of hope for a part of Gotham's population.

And perhaps, she reasoned, it was not that things had changed so much that night, but they were simply unfolding as the pages making up the book of fate being written. Maybe Lachesis, in her eternal wisdom, decided that this was their lot in life. Maybe everything happening was a part of the thread that represented their lives. What foolishness I'm thinking, she mused as she turned to gaze up at the moonless sky.

She'd be walking the craggy shores her family called home the next time the moon was full. It wasn't the happy homecoming she once envisioned having. A part of her hoped she could convince Bruce to come home with her. Getting away from Gotham for a while and allowing his mind, as well as his body, to heal were the medicine this nurse thought her patient most in need of.

However, same said patient was a stubborn, cynical, and autocratic man who'd likely balk soon as she suggested he come with her to Ireland. If I'm capable of handling my equally irritable, prideful, and stubborn brothers, she thought as she leaned on the railing. I'm more than capable of handling Bruce Wayne.

Erin smirked as she took a breath, inhaling the smoldering air, and feeling it go down to where the cold cupped her heart in the palm of its cruel hand. A storm was coming. She could feel it. Seconds later, as if she ordered it, a pale jag of lightning cracked the groaning sky.

"Erin," she heard Bruce softly call. "Come back inside. It's getting ready to storm."

"In a minute." A low roar rolled above her head, rattling the windows, and shaking the railing beneath her palms. "I want to watch the storm as it comes in."

"Why?" There was an inquisitive note in his voice. "What's so fascinating about a thunderstorm?"

"They're a symbol of nature's raw power and control over us."

"It's going to start raining any second."

"Not for thirty minutes," she said as another burst of light zagged across the sky. "Okay, maybe twenty."

"Is something bothering you?"

"No, why?"

"You're standing out on my balcony in the middle of a thunderstorm."

"I like storms."

She loved the way the hair on the back of her neck shivered with anticipation. The charged sensation in her blood. The smell of the air right before the gates opened up. Storms made her feel… alive. She needed a storm, really. It'd help reduce her tension. The tingling sensation in her belly would go away. That sense of something about to happen would dissipate. Her mind would empty for five blessed moments. I won't have to think about anything other than nature's spectacle.

"You won't like it if a bolt of lightning hits you."

"The odds of being struck by lightning in any given year are one in a million."

"Why am I not surprised you knew that?"

"I'm not sure why you're surprised." She angled her head back and watched as more balls of light played peek-a-boo among the clouds. "I tend to know lots of obscure things."

"Such as what herbs to use to put me to sleep."

"Mhm."

"Erin?" Concern coated that velvety baritone. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Another boom rolled across the sky. "I just want to watch the storm."

She heard the tap-tap-tap of his cane on the marble floor and hid a smile. Part of her had been secretly hoping he'd see her out here on the balcony and come out to join her. Bruce, as well as Alfred, were her fountain of strength. Her life had been a roller coaster ride these last few days. She didn't know how she'd have survived, much less remained sane if it weren't for Bruce and Alfred there to act as buffers.

"You have to be the only woman I know who actually likes to stand outside and watch as it storms."

"I find storms beautiful, Bruce."

"Yes, but I have to say again." He glanced up at the furious sky. "You won't find it so beautiful if you get hit by lightning."

"There's a one in fifteen thousand chance that will ever happen." His sigh made her smile. "What?"

"How do you even know that?"

"I watch a lot of storm documentaries."

His lips twitched.

"Between reading your books on torture?"

She snorted a laugh.

"What was in those books saved your life."

"I appreciate that." The wind whipped around them and brought the first drops of rain. "Can we go back inside before it starts really coming down?"

"I'm surprised to see you left your little Bat-cubby."

"Bat-cubby?" he drawled, a flicker of wry amusement in his eyes. "Is that what you've named my workstation?"

"Well, it's not really a cave, now is it?" A sheet of lightning stretched across the sky. Erin felt the power of it pulse inside her soul. "It's more like a closet you go to brood in silence."

"I see that you and Alfred have been talking about my nocturnal past time." He fixed her with a mildly reproving look. "And I do not brood."

"Bruce, you are the King of... wait." Her eyebrows shot up. "Do you mean to tell me that there's actually a bat-cave somewhere in this city?" At the resigned expression upon his face, she started giggling. "Oh, I don't even know why I'm surprised, but I am." she leaned over the balcony railing and stared down at the ground that was far, far below. "Is one of them…?"

"One of them is nearby," he confirmed in a quiet voice. "Yes."

She gapped at him from over her shoulder. "You have more than one cave?"

He made a sound that seemed suspiciously close to a chuckle before he said, "I had to have somewhere I could park my car when I was residing in the city." Then he added, his lips twitching at the corners, "And when I was living out at the Manor."

It took her a moment to get over the fact he had not just one, but two caves to store all the gear he needed for his career as Batman. It made sense for him to have more than one cave. He'd have faster access to the equipment he needed. Plus…

"Leaving that tank thing you drive in the driveway might be a wee bit suspicious to a passerby."

He didn't laugh. He didn't smile. However, there was a slight softening to his features that gave her a much-needed burst of hope. He wasn't completely dead inside. No, he was just a man flayed alive by people who had no idea they were persecuting the man who sacrificed everything to protect them.

The people of Gotham would never know what Bruce sacrificed for them. What he lost. He bled from wounds they could not see. He woke screaming from a myriad of nightmares they never imagined a man such as him having. They didn't know just how good a man their prodigal son was because he chose to hide his real face from them. And he decided to have his other persona become the villain so that the real villain could be the hero he felt the people of this city deserved.

It was complete and utter bullshit, of course. Harvey Dent was a good man until the Joker broke him. Everything Dent accomplished, all the good he did for the city, it'd be undone if the city were ever to learn what he had done. However, trying to get Bruce to see that was like pulling teeth from a crocodile's mouth with a spoon.

"So, if my nocturnal profession is not what you have been talking with Alfred about…" He arched an eyebrow. "What information have you been trying to wheedle out of him?"

She blinked her eyes wide.

"Why, I have wheedled nothing out of him." When he merely arched a brow at her she conceded with a small, sheepish smile, "Okay, I maybe got him to show me a few of the baby pictures that didn't get burned up in the fire that destroyed Wayne Manor."

Bruce heaved a long sigh while rolling his eyes heavenwards. Either asking the gods turning that polished surface into a light show for help. Or patience.

"What?" The ghost of a smile hovered on her lips. "It's not like he showed me any photos of you getting bathed in a sink..."

"Getting bathed in a sink..." he mumbled while frowning his confusion. Then he looked at her, blinking rapidly. "You were bathed in a sink?"

"It was common practice when I was a baby to bathe infants in a sink."

"I don't see how this is something that should have been common practice." His horrified expression had amusement gurgling into her throat. "Didn't they have baby tubs back then?"

"Sure, they did."

"Then why didn't they use them?"

"Because most families had to make do with what they had available."

"A sink, though?" He looked up as the sky rumbled. "Why not a bathtub?"

"Convenience."

"And they took pictures of you being bathed?"

Erin hid another grin as she watched lightning dance across the sky.

"Yes, they did." She looked at him. "Of all nine of us."

"Why?"

"I think parents take those pictures as payback for all the headaches we caused them while growing up."

"How did you and your siblings manage to survive?"

It took her a minute, and that was a jolt, to realize he meant surviving being part of a family. Her heart broke for the little boy who lost his mother and his father all in one cruel twist of fate. Things she took for granted, like family holidays, Sunday dinners, and sibling squabbles were foreign to the man who toured Gotham's rooftops in a cape and cowl.

"I'm lucky because I have Ma and my brothers to love me. I was the apple of Da's eyes until he passed away." She reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. "And while it breaks my heart to know you missed out on a lot of those things I had because some idiot with a gun chose the wrong path, I'm comforted because you did —do," she corrected, "have Alfred. And he," she pointed out, "cares for you a lot."

"And now I have you."

Those words caused everything inside her to shift and slowly begin to settle.

"Decided you like having me around, did you?"

"When you're not bullying and badgering me, I find myself liking you a lot."

Her lips screwed up into a playful smirk.

"You like having me around especially when I am bullying and badgering you, Bruce."

His lips curled up at the corners and he reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "The hell of it is, Erin?" he said quietly. "I do."

"Good," she lightly teased. "Because I really like bullying and badgering you."

"I'm sure you do. Now…" He indicated the penthouse with a wave of his hand. "Can we go back inside before it starts raining?"

A laugh burst from her as the heavens chose that moment to open up.

A/N: Hello, all! I hope this finds you well!