Hi. --- fail at an author's note.

"Try and hit me." Bruce instructed me.

"Excuse me…" My voice echoed in the hidden 'lair' below the crate yard.

"Hit me."

"Uh…okay." I swung at him with all my strength. "Holy shit!" I screamed as he grabbed my fist and flung me in a full front flip, my back smacking against the mats that Bruce had set up on the ground. "Ow…"

"I said hit me."

"I'm trying!" I kicked my legs out in front of me before trying to get up.

"Trying isn't good enough!" He yelled.

"Okay…" I took my stance again.

"Hit me."

"Okay! I get it, gosh." I swung at his head and once again he flipped me on my back.

"You still haven't hit me."

"Please don't flip me again." I begged, still lying on my back.

"Do you really think you can cry your way out of a fight?" Bruce raised his voice. "Get up!"

I stood up and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of my face. I decided to aim for something else instead of his head again. I eyed his side, the opposite from the scarred side.

"Hit…me…" He said slowly.

I swung lower and he deflected my punch and pushed me away, causing me to land half off the mat.

"How did you…?" I gasped, trying to get to my feet.

"Practice." He bellowed. "Hit me!"

"I would hit you if you stopped blocking my punches!" I grumbled under my breath as I stood up again.

I let out a frustrated moan as he told me to hit him again. I swung at him and grabbed the hand he had been using each time to flip me over and held it back, punching him in the face with my other fist instead.

"I HIT YOU! I DID IT! OH MY GOSH!" I squealed, jumping up and down.

"Never stop in the middle of a fight and celebrate." He smiled at me, blood dribbling from his bottom lip before he tackled me to the ground.

"Okay fine, but I still hit you." I rubbed in his face.

"Good job, but don't get all big headed."

I tried to struggle out from under him but he was too heavy. I tried to push him off me; all he did was watch me, amused at my attempts. He was purposefully pushing his entire weight towards me to make it harder. I kissed him on the nose.

"Honey, please get off me."

"That's a slutty defence." He said.

"What?"

"You can't flaunt yourself to get a guy off you." His eyebrows narrowing as he said this.

"Well…normally you flaunt yourself to get the guy on you Bruce." I sighed. "You're crushing me. I just want you off me so I can actually breath."

"Oh." He scampered to his feet. "Sorry." He pulled me off the mat. "We have to help you defend…" He ran at me from the other side of the mat like a raging bull. I ran out of the way and he continued to chase me. "Stop and fight me!"

I stopped running and saw him still running towards me. He swung at me and I remembered a karate defence I had learned as a child. I flung my arm up and his fist hit it. I knocked his arm down and kneed him in the stomach.

"Okay…that's good." He said to me from the floor.

"I'm sorry!"

"No…no…it's fine." He laughed. "Very good. Let's go back to you trying to hit me…" He stood up and took his stance.

…

Bruce had spent the last three weeks training me since his side had gotten better. Everyday we practiced for hours. After I went home I would spend a few more hours by myself with a punching bag, or at kick boxing classes a few times a week.

I was exhausted, but Bruce wouldn't let me rest. He said I had no excuses not to want to practice. I though I had all the excuses in the world. But of course he wouldn't listen to them. I was almost in tears after every practice session, my body aching, my breath slowly gaining its strength back. Bruce told me that I had to keep practicing after our practices in order to keep up with what he had for next practice. So I pushed myself, and he told me to push myself harder.

Stacking books on the shelves hurt, the library still not giving me a raise or promotion. I stacked the tattered books for 6 hours a day, and the other two hours sorting the books that came in before closing That way I could stack them right away when I came in the next morning. Then I went and practiced with Bruce for 4 hours ever night, whether I worked till 8:30 p.m. or not. After those four hours I would go home and punch and kick the hell out of my punching bag for one or two hours, depending on how late I was at work for.

I hadn't even tried to ask him about the Iceberg Lounge yet. I knew if I asked he would go straight to telling me to leave it alone…maybe I would wait till the next time he had a few to many drinks. I rolled my eyes at the thought of interrogating him when he's in such a state.

Every practice Bruce would try and talk me out of being Batwoman, I was actually thinking he was making this hard on me so that I would change my mind. Thinking that he may do that made me angry. I didn't know why he couldn't just accept the fact that I was going to do this.

I stepped up on the mat, ready to start practice again.

"Are you sure you're going to go through with this?" He asked me.

"Yes." I grunted. "How many times are you going to ask me?"

"Hopefully until you change your mind."

"I'm not going to change my mind Bruce." I let my arms hang against my sides. "So you should just get use to it."

He stopped hunching in a stance and stood up straight. "Just get over it?"

"Bruce, I want to do this okay!"

"I want you to be safe okay?" He huffed.

"I know you do, and that's why you're training me."

"You can still get hurt." He told me. "It's not like I haven't been hurt before. You know I have."

"Please, Bruce, can we drop this whole thing? I'm doing this okay?"

"Stop asking me if it's okay. You know it's not okay with me!" Bruce spat at me.

"And you know that I really want to do this." I threw back at him forcefully.

"Morgan please just…" He started.

"Can we just get back to practicing?" I interrupted.

Bruce kept his eyes on mine, defeated.

"Can we?" I said again.

"I need some air." He muttered, walking off the mat. "I'm going for a drive, I'll be back in a bit, don't leave until I do."

I watched him leave, still standing on the mat.

"Fine, go have your damn cool down!" I called after him, but I knew he was to far away to hear me.

I trudged my way through the practice equipment lying all over the floor and sat down in the computer chair. Then it came to me, Bruce had just left me alone. I took the computer off hibernate and began going through his files. He had surveillance, he had personal files for hundreds and hundreds of criminals, and he had a file for open cases. I double clicked on the file for open cases and found what I was looking for.

"Iceberg Lounge…owner…The Penguin…seriously, these guys pick weird names…real name…Oswald Chesterfield…I guess there's reasons for fake names…runs underground business deals…that's why Charles is going after Wayne Enterprises…he works for this guy!" I wrote down all the information on the screen and tucked the folded paper in my bra. "I've so got you Charles."