Authors Note: Yay! Another chapter! I've kind of had a set rule that I won't update another chapter until I get a couple "votes" on a chapter or about 20'ish views (I don't aim high, haha.) just so y'all know. I want to make sure the story is actually being read. Don't forget, "votes" make my day and comments make my week! Keep on being active if you want more Bruce Wayne feels. (And let's be honest...who doesn't?)

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. I am I who has nothing. No Batman, sadly, but feel free to put him under my Christmas tree in December! (But not the red-haired version, Emi. I know you are reading this.) Moving along, here are more good Bruce feels. Hopefully.

Watching Bruce slip into the cave was never an easy task, despite his promises to be back home soon and in one piece. Alfred and I had different ways of coping while he was gone - he chose to get his supplies ready and in the cave, just in case, he says. He makes sure there's a phone down there, just in case we had to call for help. Bruce had always said that Alfred was being over-cautious, but he had never told him not to bring it. He knew the danger of his double-life all too well, as did I. But the thing that worried me the most was the fact that I wasn't nearly as concerned for my own life, but for his. I had kept myself from falling in love with anyone for 25 years because when you fall in love, it only hurts that much more when something happens, whether it be death or them leaving.

Falling in love with Batman was out of the question, but my heart didn't seem to follow rules well.

"Miss Dawson, sit while I make you supper. You can't just sit here and pace until Master Wayne comes home. He'll be fine, just like always." Alfred's somehow cheery voice called from the kitchen as his grey head peeked out from the opened window that divided the kitchen from the living area. The man was either the bravest person I had ever met, or he was excellent at putting up a front to hide his true feelings. "I can't eat...not now, Alfred." I had long given up on him ever calling me by my first name, but calling him Mr. Pennyworth had grown silly in the past few months. He has his way of becoming a designated father, Bruce had told me once, during our late nights. He sneaks into people's hearts before they even notice.

Bruce also had the same power, but I didn't think he realized that it was more than just physical with so many people, more than just based on wealth and money. He had grown so used to people only hanging around him, hoping to get money or sex out of the deal. I wondered if he even realized just how loved he was, even if it were just by Alfred and I. His note in the bouquet of flowers made me wonder just how afraid Bruce Wayne was. Just mentioning love, a deeper affection, it seemed to terrify him.

It scared me, too.

I walked around the manor silently while Alfred pattered around in the kitchen, making a nice meal, no doubt, something for Bruce to come home to and be comforted by, like life was all normal and okay.

I managed to find the private library, one that belonged to Bruce personally, next to his large bedroom. I stepped in quietly, still feeling like I was intruding even though he had given me permission to go in and take a book anytime, after a discussion of literature that had left us realizing that we had similar taste. It was my intention to step in, find something to grab ahold of my attention and get it away from Batman and his missions, but I lingered when I walked over the threshold. It smells like him, I realized.

True to Bruce's typical style, books were scattered on desks, paperwork that was most likely important used as bookmarks and all of the books were ruined with dog-ears in almost every page of the biographies and such, words highlighted when he found something of interest. Most of these books were probably used for his patrol, I guessed. So many biographies of people who had been seen as terrible individuals. He had told me once that he tried his best to get into their minds, to see why they were doing what they were doing. Judging by the book covers, I knew that he had been studying on Alfonso for awhile, but not to this extent. Bookmark after bookmark, yellow highlights ruining almost every page.

"Miss Dawson, Master Wayne is home and I believe it would do him good to see you." I opened my cloudy eye when I heard Alfred's voice, a glance at the clock telling me that it was way past Bruce's typical time. He'd been out there for 9 hours, almost 10. The sun had already risen, ready to start a new day...if only I had that. How I longed for the ability to just stop time for a few days, to collect my bearings. "I'm coming."

I jogged down the stairs and followed Alfred down the stairs, passing the old man quickly. He didn't seem overly concerned or in a rush to get back to Bruce, he lagged on the stairs, quite honestly, much slower than normal, so I knew I shouldn't have been so worried or eager to get down there, but he could've been treating Bruce for hours, for all I knew. Bruce could've been bleeding out or poisoned or - "Sarah, stop worrying yourself." I don't think a Gothomite accent ever sounded that good. Bruce peered around the kitchen corner with an icepack resting on his head and a towel thrown over his broad shoulders, smirk firmly in place as it should be. Despite the fact that he was drenched in sweat and obviously tired, he looked fine...too fine, I realized.

His mission failed.

If he had of found Alfonso like he had wanted, he would've come home with more than a few bruises. Just like he had told me, Alfonso is out for blood and he would've tried his best to destroy Batman the minute he saw him.

"Bruce, are you okay?" I felt his gaze linger on me, watching as I calmly crossed over to the tiled floor, shaking my head with a brief smile when I noticed the cabinet doors opened, random items scattered around the granite counters. Even Bruce Wayne gets lost in here.

"He wasn't even there, Sarah." I cringed mentally at the sound of his frustrated voice. It'll be another long day, I knew. He'd beat himself up over it for days, maybe even weeks, and keep himself up night after night until he found another lead. "The great dark detective." He spat out, his smile long gone. I wondered just how long it took him to build up the power to even smile in the first place. "That's what they call me, now. Apparently, I'm not that great."

If Bruce was any other man, any other person in general, I would've told him to stop sulking and get off of his high horse. Everyone needs a chance to get humble, right? But I saw how hard he worked every night just for justice and peace for people that he'd never met, for a girl he had just seen for the first time a few months ago. He didn't even know who I was, what I liked to do, what I hated and loved...but he had decided to fight for me. It made me sick to see him so torn all the time.

"Bruce, you've got to-"

"I missed him by 5 minutes. If I had been more precise and hadn't lingered around, if I had've brought backup and surrounded the area like I knew I should have, I would've had him. You would be safe for once. It was 5 minutes, Sarah. I tried to go after him but they split up and I lost track of him. They started going to the manor and I literally lost my nerve because I thought I'd come home to two people dead. Two people that I couldn't even live without. I'm losing my mind with this case and I don't even know why. It's probably the cleanest case I've been involved with so far. No crazy clowns, no masks, not that much blood, considering what he could've done to you that day. And I'm losing it because I let myself fal-" His voice broke at that moment and he strode over to the sink, throwing the ice pack into it with enough force to create a loud thudwhen it landed.

"You let yourself what, Bruce?" By this time I had already felt my walls crumble and I stood before him completely unguarded and willing to play out whatever act he had in mind, just to make him happy again, to let me feel something but sadness and grief again. "You let yourself be happy again? You let yourself see that you could actually have a happy life outside of your cowl? Why is that such a bad thing?" My voice turned into a whisper when he closed the space between us with long strides, so close that I could smell the cologne he had dabbed on before a day at Wayne Enterprise's and the odd smell from the rubber and Kevlar - an odd mix that was so perfectly Bruce.

"My love killed Rachel." Finally, he had opened up and said just what Alfred and I had been waiting for in all of the months that I'd been around. The reason behind his closed walls, the reason that he had hidden himself from the world for so many years and become recluse.

He was absolutely terrified of losing someone else, something that I understood all too well.

"Bruce, an evil man killed Rachel." My voice was soft, as if I was speaking to one of the kids at work after they'd gotten hurt or bullied. Bruce seemed no different than Tommy when he'd first came into foster care - so scared and alone, desperate for someone to love him despite his faults. "Rachel loved Harvey...if you hadn't of saved him, if you had've chosen her, what would she have done?"

"She would've killed herself in the long run."

I had never seen a grown man as strong and sure as Bruce Wayne completely ridden with so much guilt and sadness. Just how far did his guilt go? Did he blame himself for his parents death, too? He was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and I so badly wanted to take off the weight for him, but I couldn't, not until he let me in.

"Bruce, she loved Harvey Dent." I had met the woman all of 3 times, at various galas thrown for small organizations that I had been a part of. All of those times, she was with Harvey Dent and was obviously utterly in love with the blonde man, and for good reason, it seemed. Even when she spoke his name, you could see the reverence in her eyes, a twinkle in the blue orbs anytime he was mentioned or brought up. When Bruce was mentioned, she seemed to shut down as if she'd never met the man in her life. Bruce's love wasn't returned, although it seemed shocking to me. How could she have refused him so many times? So brutally?

"You deserve a woman who loves you back." I paused, "Cowl included." If I was overstepping my bounds, he made no mention of it. Only put two calloused hands that seemed to be the opposite of what a billionaire should have on my face. He didn't seem concerned with the tears that slipped down his hands from my blue eyes, nor did he make a mention of the ones coming from his own.

"Where could I find one like that?" He murmured.

"I believe you should look directly in front of you, Master Wayne." Alfred's teasing voice rang through the manor as he walked in, unsurprised by our closeness and display of affection. He'd been hoping for this, I knew. So had I, Alfred.

"Is that so, Alfred?" Bruce inquired, fire blazing in his brown eyes. For the first time since I had met him, I saw a twinkle in them, unmistakable. "Close your eyes, old man." He said teasingly, glancing at the butler who still stood in the kitchen with eyes on us. Just as the kind butler turned his head, eyes covered by his wrinkled and worn hands, Bruce pressed his lips against mine, his thinned mouth meeting mine in slow motion, it seemed. He was slow and purposeful, watching for my reaction. He pulled away slowly, eyes on my lips, still.

"I think I've fallen in like with you, Sarah Dawson."