Amy woke with a start and stared blankly around her. She wondered where she was. It felt like she had fallen asleep in a museum or a palace because she simply couldn't place all the luxurious European-style furniture and elegant surroundings.

Then, she blinked her eyes and realized how painful they were, and everything came back to her, including the way the Batman had simply pinched something in her neck after she had revealed to him that Bruce Wayne was Ra's al Ghul, knocking her unconscious. He must have actually tucked her into bed as well, because as she sat up and looked down, she realized that she was snuggly under the covers, something she never did at home. Speaking of home, she decided it was best she get back there as soon as possible. She had no idea where she was or to whom these rooms belonged, but she sure as hell didn't want to stay around and find out. For a split second she toyed with the idea that they belonged to the Batman, but she realized just how ridiculous that was.

She was about to get out of bed and head to the bathroom to wash her face and rinse her eyes out when the door to the bedroom opened and in walked Bruce Wayne himself. Her jaw fell open, and she stared at him through her swollen, bleary eyes.

"Amy, are you alright?" he asked, rushing over to the side of the bed and sitting down on the edge of it, taking her hands in his. "Your eyes! What happened? What are you doing in my suite?"

An overwhelming desire to cry and just give up on this whole crazy thing washed over her, and she felt her lips tremble. She clamped them shut, shaking her head and trying to process what was happening. All she could think of was how could the Batman do this to her? He had to have known that this place belonged to Bruce Wayne. Was he in league with Bruce Wayne? Was he playing her, toying with her to throw her off the trail of the real criminal partnership that was Bruce Wayne and the Batman? Was there anywhere she was safe? Anyone she could trust?

The image of Harry rose up before her eyes, but she couldn't let that happen. Harry was innocent in this game. She would not put his life in danger.

She felt Bruce hands gently cradle her face, then slip down to encircle her waist as he helped her out of bed. He supported her as she wobbled to the bathroom, the pain in her eyes making her dizzy and nauseous. She was feeling too ill to protest when he lifted her up to sit on the counter and wet a soft wash cloth, pressing it gently against her eyes.

The way he was so gentle and almost tender with her was her undoing, and she couldn't hold it in any more. She began to cry, quietly at first, but then more intensely with sobs shaking her body. It didn't help that Bruce put the cloth aside and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly to his chest and murmuring comforting words in her ear. She tried to resist being comforted by him, but she was just too distraught and overwhelmed by everything and finally gave in, winding her arms around his neck and burying her face against him.

He smelled so good and felt so solid, and she was so scared and tired of being scared of everything and everyone. She didn't want to let go, and he didn't seem to want to let her go, either. For what seemed a very long time, he simply stood there, holding her closely and stroking her hair as she cried. Finally, her sobs slowed down, and she let herself rest against him limply. He kissed the top of her head, which almost brought on a fresh wave of tears, but she was more successful this time in holding back.

What was she going to do? What was the next step? She scolded herself about pulling it back together and just facing what she had to face and dealing with it. She had gotten herself into this mess, and only she could get herself out of it.

As if sensing that she was calmer now, Bruce picked up the cloth and wet it again, putting it back on her eyes and holding it there. Amy still held onto his shirt, realizing that he wasn't wearing a suit today, just a plain cotton button-down shirt and slacks. She couldn't see it because of the cloth, but she could feel it now that she was paying attention.

"What happened to you?" he asked softly, his voice deep and raspy. She hadn't really noticed his voice before, but now she definitely noticed the smoky timbre.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," she said, clearing her throat from the remainder of the tears. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, I own this suite in the hotel."

"I mean what are you doing here this morning?"

"Oh. I, uh, received a message."

"A message?"

"Yeah. A note saying I should come here."

"Who left the note?"

There was a silence, and she wished she could see his expression, but the cloth was pressed firmly against her eyes and felt too good to give up.

"A mutual friend." His voice was barely audible.

Impossible. He couldn't really mean the Batman. The only other option was Harry, but she doubted that Bruce would have called Harry a friend, not after what he had told her about him last night. It had to be…but it was impossible…yet hadn't she just conjectured that the Batman and Bruce could be in cahoots? But why did it sit so wrong? She sighed without realizing it.

"What's the matter? Are you alright?"

"Bruce, I…" she paused, unsure of what to say. How do you tell a playboy billionaire who turns out to be a psychopathic criminal mastermind that you're suspicious of him?

"Amy, what is it?" His voice was so gentle, so soft that she felt her heart give a heavy thud against her ribs. "You can tell me. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you ag…you're safe."

"The hell I am!" she exclaimed, angry tears threatening this time. His words unexpectedly upset her. In fact, they infuriated her. "Would you please make up your mind?" she added, pulling his hand away from her eyes so she could glare at him.

He was looking back her with a confused expression. "What do you mean?" he asked guardedly.

"I mean, would you please decide once in for all if you want me alive or dead!" she growled, glaring at him as best she could. She jumped off the counter and was hit with a wave of dizziness and a pang of nausea that made her stomach loop-de-loop.

"What? Of course I want you alive!" he said, at her side and steadying her before she could do more than totter. "What are you talking about?"

She realized that it was too late now to take anything back. She had let the cat out of the bag with her little outburst. There was no more playing dumb. If he was going to finish her off, he now had the perfect reason to do it as she obviously had showed that she knew too much. The only hope she had now was to find out as much as she could from him, then try to make an escape. She couldn't even rely on the Batman any more – not until she was sure that he wasn't part of Ra's al Ghul's sick little game. She was on her own.

It was difficult to accuse a man who was helping you walk, but it had to be done.

"Okay, here's the deal," she said, gritting her teeth at the way she had to hang on to him for balance. "If you want me alive, why did you try and poison me that night at Oshinu then bring me back to your penthouse to finish me off? Why did you bring that bokor back last night? How did you know I was coming? Why did you send him after me in the Ancien Quartier?"

Her words trailed off as she spoke her suspicions aloud. For some reason, as she said the actual words, it became clear for the first time that she couldn't actually pinpoint any one thing that he had done to try and have her killed. Her mind raced desperately, trying to sort everything out.

Bruce chuckled beside her then pulled her around to look at him.

"Amy, I don't have any idea what you're talking about," he said. "I know something happened that night at Oshinu, but I don't have a clue what it was or who did it to you. I brought you back to my place because I thought you'd be more comfortable there than in the emergency room. I have no idea what a bokor is, and I had no idea you were coming last night, after all, I had just told you that I wasn't going to see you again."

Amy felt a burning blush rising up through her ears and tried to look away, but he caught her chin and brought her face back to his. He bent his head down until their foreheads were touching. She had to close her eyes because it was too painful for her tender eyes to try and focus on him at such close range. When he spoke, she could feel his breath across her lips, and her heart gave another heavy thud.

"But I will tell you this," he whispered, his voice strangely gravelly. "If you are in trouble or some kind of danger, I will protect you with everything I've got. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. That's a fact."

"Don't!" she whispered. "Don't make a promise you can't keep. How can I trust you? After all, you're the one who told me to be careful around Harry, that he had done bad things and so had you. How can I believe you're not still doing bad things? Can you honestly tell me that you don't know anything about Ra's al Ghul?"

"I know Harry from shady weapons deals he has tried to do, that Wayne Enterprises used to be a part of. He's a dangerous man. Ruthless. But I don't know anything about the whatever-thing-ghoul you just said."

She chewed her lip, torn by indecision and gut instincts that were telling her to go in two very different directions.

Bruce sensed that she was teetering on the edge of believing him, and he knew he had this one chance to sway her, to win her trust in order to keep her safe and out of the way of all this until it was over. He decided to use the one weapon he knew worked on her.

He caught her lips with his, softly and gently, holding her around the waist with one arm and cradling her face with his free hand. Her quiet little gasp was like a pure shot of desire through his own body, driving him to deepen his kiss, grabbing a fistful of her hair but careful not to pull it.

He hated to lie to her, but he felt he had no choice if he was going to protect her from herself. She had to be able to trust someone in this mess. She trusted the Batman, but now he needed her to trust him as Bruce Wayne. That was the only way he could protect her day and night.

Those thoughts drifted to the back of his mind and very little took its place as he found himself getting lost in kissing her. He was getting drunk with kissing her, and his body, which had been on fire since the night before when he had first taken her in his arms, was making demands.

Finally, he felt her relent slightly, giving in to his kiss, opening to him to allow him to taste her. For the first time since taking on the mantle of the beast at night, he felt an urge that was stronger than his rage. This need for her, for her body, for her everything…this was primal, deeper than anger, sharper than vengeance, stronger than hate. A small voice tried to reason with him, tried to make him stop, but it was weak and weary. There was no rational argument he could make at that moment that would stand up to the onslaught of his desire. He wanted her. Period.

Tightening his grip around her waist, he lifted her off the ground and walked toward the bed. He gently lay her down on it, breaking his kisses only to take in quick gasps of air. He positioned himself over her, lowering himself on his elbows just enough that he could feel the length of her body against his. His free hand began to follow the curves of her waist and hips, and he felt her body arch and twist in response to his touch. He couldn't help but gloat, knowing that he could make her respond like that.

In fact, she didn't seem to mind any of this. Given the way she had begun to kiss him back and wind her arms around his neck and shoulders, she seemed to want to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her. Wordlessly, he slipped his hand tentatively under her t-shirt, relishing the touch of his fingers against the smooth, warm skin of her belly. She gasped into his kiss, and moved her hands quickly to the buttons of his shirt, tugging at them in frustration when they didn't obey quickly enough.

His body was heating up against hers, and he was quickly approaching a point where there would be no going back. The beast and its desire would take full control, and there would be no choice for either of them. He groaned when her warm hands slid the cloth of his shirt open and down his arms. He shrugged it off as she pulled at it.

It wasn't enough. With a growl, he yanked up her t-shirt, roughly pulling it over her head, revealing her surprisingly little lacy bra to his greedy eyes. His lips left her mouth and began to move down her neck and over the swells of her breasts.

Her fingers began to fumble with his belt and the buttons of his pants, and he eagerly returned the favor, easily unzipping her jeans with practiced hands. Her hips thrust up against his, and he nearly lost it right then and there. Instead, with his last shred of control, he pulled her up into a sitting position, her legs wrapped around his waist as he sat up, kneeling on the mattress.

As his hands stroked her flesh insatiably, she ran her fingers through his hair, kissing him as urgently as he was kissing her. His hands worked their way up her back to her bra, roughly pulling the straps down off her shoulders and unhooking it in the back. He left it in place, wanting to savor the moment longer, letting it be a barrier between them for just a little more before he began the next assault on her clothing.

Her little moans of urgent pleasure drove him wild, the beast howling to come out and claim what was his. He slid one of his hands inside the waist of her jeans, slipping past what felt like lacy little underthings to the smooth, round flesh of her bottom. He hitched her up against him, letting her get a feel for exactly what she was up against, literally.

Her hands moved hungrily from his hair down his back, slowing and tracing every scar. It was an infinitesimal change, but he felt it when the questions began to form in her mind.

He could have roared with frustration as he realized that this was not good, that if she found out more about his scars, she'd have questions, and her questions were exactly the right wrong questions to ask. Her touches slowed and became more cautious, investigative and less like a lover's caress. In this state, he brain was so addled, he worried he might just give everything away, and instinct told him that if he revealed everything to Amy now, he'd lose her…for good.

As gently as he could manage, which wasn't very much, he lowered her down from his waist to sit on the bed. He grabbed his shirt and stepped down from the bed, keeping his front towards her.

"Wha-what?" she asked dazedly, and it was all he could do to keep from jumping back in the bed and finishing what he had started. Her desire-heavy eyes were confused, and her lips swollen from his kisses. She clutched at the bra to hold it in place, as it still hung loosely off her shoulders and back. Her jeans were undone and pulled halfway down her hips, and everything about her, from her breath to her scent, beckoned to him like opium to one who would chase the dragon.

He wanted to whine like the dog he felt he was. His body was still on fire and still demanding this woman. The frustration he felt teetered on the edge of violence, and he grit his teeth.

"Did I do something?" she asked in a small voice.

"No," he said breathlessly, pulling on his shirt. "No, you didn't do anything."

"Then, you decided you didn't want me?"

"God no!" he exclaimed, wincing inwardly as he saw her shrinking back into herself, backing away emotionally from him to keep from getting more hurt. She was the thing he wanted most, and here he was, making her feel as if she wasn't good enough. No matter what he said, he knew that the simple act of leaving her arms spoke louder than any words.

"I just realized that this wasn't a good time," he added lamely. "It seems like you're in danger, and keeping you safe has to be our first priority."

He died a little on the inside as he saw her expression grow cold and blank as she completely withdrew from him.

"Of course." Her voice was flat and unemotional.

He felt desperate for her, and he felt like a jackass for letting this all get too far too quickly because of his lack of self-control. That's what he was, an undisciplined, desperate jackass.

"Please, please try to understand," he pleaded with her, trying to be inconspicuous about buttoning up his shirt and tucking it in. "I need to make sure you're safe, and I just let things get out of control, and I'm sorry about that. It's not what I wanted to have happen at all."

He felt his encrypted phone ring in his trouser pocket, and he grabbed it before the vibrations could do any more damage to him.

"Look, just stay here. Stay here until I send Alfred for you. We'll get you somewhere safe."

"I'm not safe in this suite?" He shuddered at the cold, clinical tone to her voice.

"No, you're not safe anywhere that's associated with Bruce Wayne," he said. "Just give me a little time to figure something out. I promise I'll keep you safe, and then once you're safe, we can…can…talk about things."

She gave him a long, measuring look, then nodded. He was relieved to see how reasonable she was, despite her obvious disappointment.

"Don't open the door for anyone, and don't go anywhere until Alfred comes for you, okay?" he said, darting forward to kiss her on the cheek, flinching inwardly as she didn't move or respond in any way.

"I'll see you soon," he said, running out the door. He hit the stairwell and was gone.

Amy stared at the door for a moment, then calmly stood up, re-hooked her bra and pulled on her t-shirt. She put on her shoes and grabbed her bag. Then, calmly, coolly, she walked out of the suite and into the elevator, taking it to the lobby and walking out the front door.

A/N: Well, that was a little bodice-ripping interlude that I hadn't exactly planned on, but seems like Bruce and Amy had other things in mind. Will this drive her back into Harry's arms? Will she ever trust the Batman again? Will she ever forgive Bruce for his lies? Will Bruce ever learn that he can trust Amy with his secrets? Oh, and don't forget questions like what is going on with the bokor and the League of Shadows? What do they want from each other?

Stay tuned! Same Bat Channel, same Bat Story!

Yours in Mischief,

Kate