Author's Note: Here is the latest chapter in Claire and Bruce's story. Once again, I'm making changes to the Nolan films and the Smallville series and borrowing elements from comics, cartoons, and other sources.

Thank you to everyone for your support for this story. I cannot express how much it means to me.

Now, as always, thank you for reading.

Claire knew Bruce was stubborn, but right now, she couldn't believe what a pig-headed idiot he was.

"You know how stupid that was, don't you?" Claire asked, as she deposited Bruce in his bedroom after speeding them both to his penthouse.

Claire and Bruce had been working a case in Gotham. The criminals they'd been tracking liked to use explosives, and from recent threats, it sounded like they were planning on using their bombs in a highly public event.

Bruce had found a lead on their base of operations, and Claire had volunteered to investigate the place with him.

Of course, the group hadn't been happy to have their base raided. Claire had disabled their obvious booby traps, but apparently she'd missed one. Bruce had realized that the leader of the group was arming the hidden bomb before she did, and he'd reacted foolishly as far as Claire was concerned.

The trap was near Claire, and instead of just letting her deal with the impact, Bruce had pushed Claire out of the way.

"I did what I had to," Bruce said.

"No, you didn't have to do anything," Claire replied, taking off her mask and then her gloves. "I could've handled that explosion without being harmed. You didn't need to throw yourself in the way of that blast. You know how unbreakable I am."

"Just because you're unbreakable, that doesn't mean I could just sit back and let you face that," Bruce argued.

"Right, because it makes more sense for the fragile human to put himself in harm's way," Claire said.

"I knew what I was doing," Bruce replied, as he removed his cowl. He was trying to hide the pain he felt at the movement, but Claire could clearly see it. She'd used her x-ray vision and realized that Bruce had dislocated his shoulder during the explosion.

He'd managed to conceal the extent of his injury from Gordon and the other police officers who'd arrived at the scene to arrest the bombers, but he couldn't conceal it from her.

"Obviously, you didn't know what you were doing or else you wouldn't be in the shape you're in right now," Claire said, watching as Bruce tried to use his injured arm. "Now stop trying to hurt yourself more and at least let me help you."

"I'm fine," Bruce stated.

"Right, and I'm a normal human being," Claire replied. "Just stop arguing and take your armor off."

He looked at her closely at that statement, a slight smirk appearing on his lips. His expression made Claire realize what she'd just said.

They'd kissed a few days prior when he'd been staying at her farm, but their relationship hadn't moved beyond that point. Claire didn't mean anything by what she'd said. She just wanted to relocate his shoulder, and she couldn't do that with his armor still on.

"You know what I meant," Claire said, moving closer to him.

"Yes, I did," Bruce replied, unclasping his cape with his good arm.

Claire then began helping to remove his chest armor. She'd done it before when Bruce had been shot, but the circumstances had been so unlike the present moment. A few weeks ago, she could hardly stand Bruce, and he seemed to feel the same way about her. But now, there was something between them, and it felt different to be so close to him.

With a bit of work, they managed to take off the armor without too much more damage to Bruce's arm. As she looked at the dislocated shoulder, Claire caught sight of the scar on Bruce's back from where she'd sealed the bullet hole. Her fingers traced along the damaged tissue, and Claire couldn't stop the jolt of fear that coursed through her.

It would be so easy for her to lose him. Bruce was constantly throwing himself into dangerous situations, and she wondered how many more times he could possibly escape death.

Claire was staring at the scar on his back and the other remnants of past injuries she could see scattered across his skin, but then she realized that Bruce had turned his head and was now watching her. She needed to be helping him, not dwelling on what might happen.

"You should sit down," Claire said, and Bruce complied, settling in a nearby armless chair.

Claire assessed the injury, and she knew no matter how she approached it, this was going to hurt Bruce. She wondered if she should find some sort of medication to dull the pain before she relocated the shoulder, but Bruce had his own thoughts on the matter.

"Just get it over with," he said, stiffening the rest of his body in preparation for the pain he was about to endure.

Claire gripped his arm and was about to put his shoulder back into place when a thought entered her mind. She might not be able to ease Bruce's pain, but perhaps there was a way for her to distract him from it.

Claire put her lips on his, kissing him eagerly, and Bruce responded in kind. When she felt his tongue enter her mouth, she popped his shoulder back into the socket.

Bruce pulled back quickly, and Claire felt like she should apologize for not giving him fair warning about her intentions.

"I'm sorry," she said, as she took a step back. "I just figured if I could take your mind off what I was about to do, then maybe you wouldn't notice how much it hurt. It was a stupid idea—"

"But I was in pain," Bruce began, as he stood and moved closer to Claire, "and you thought you'd try to make me forget about that by kissing me?"

"Something like that," Claire replied, unmoving as she lost herself in the intense look in his eyes.

"And if I said that I'm still in pain?" he asked.

"Well, I guess I'd have to try to make you forget again," she answered.

At that, Bruce closed the short distance between them. His lips crashed upon hers and his hands grabbed ahold of her hips. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, as Bruce guided her backwards until she was pressed against the wall.

They were moving too fast. Claire knew it, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. They hadn't known each other for that long, and Bruce had only just found out that she wasn't human.

And they hadn't even been on a normal date—unless their nightly efforts against criminals counted as that.

But then again, neither of them was normal. She was a super-powered alien, and Bruce was a billionaire vigilante. Why would they have a normal relationship?

Still, Claire had rushed into a relationship before, and it hadn't ended well. She had been younger and more foolish then, but she didn't want to relive the same mistake with Bruce. They needed to slow down.

She broke the kiss and said, "Bruce, we should—"

Her protest stopped as his lips moved to her neck. She could never receive a love bite—her skin didn't bruise the way a human's would. But she could still feel everything he was doing, and right now, Bruce was making her toes curl.

Claire was quickly losing the will to argue, but then she heard something.

"Bruce," she began, "Alfred's on his way up the stairs."

"I'll tell him to come back later," Bruce said before turning his attention to the other side of her neck.

She almost went along with what Bruce was saying, but then she picked up on Alfred's heartbeat.

"Something's wrong," Claire said. "Al's nervous about something."

Bruce pulled away from her at that, and his brow furrowed in concern.

"Master Bruce," Alfred called from down the hallway. "Are you back home yet, sir?"

The butler opened the door as soon as he reached Bruce's bedroom and walked inside. There was a surprised look on his face when he spotted Claire.

"Miss Kent?" Alfred said. "I didn't know you were here."

"We just wrapped up a case," Claire said, feeling like a teenager who'd just been caught by a parent after making out with a boy.

"What's wrong, Alfred?" Bruce asked, with a serious tone.

"The surveillance camera in the lobby downstairs," Alfred began. "It picked up on police officers who are on their way up here."

"Why?" Bruce asked, but Claire was already working on that. She let her hearing expand so that she could listen to what was going on at the base of the building.

There were four of them, and Claire could hear Lieutenant Gordon among them.

"I just don't think you're right about this one, Bullock," Gordon said as the four men entered the elevator.

"You know it makes sense, Gordon," the man named Bullock replied. "And you're supposed to be tracking down every lead on the Batman. You can't ignore how much Wayne fits the bill for our city's masked whack job."

"I doubt someone as rich as Bruce Wayne would spend his time running around town in a costume beating up bad guys," Gordon replied. "He probably hires someone to do everything for him—from brushing his teeth to cutting up his food. You really think some billionaire is going to hunt down criminals? He's probably not even up at this ungodly hour, let alone in the middle of the night when the Batman is usually at work."

"But that's why we've got to question him now," Bullock replied. "He might not even be back from the bomber case yet. We might be able to catch him trying to sneak back home."

"They think you're the Batman," Claire told Bruce. "There are four of them, and Gordon's here with them. Gordon isn't sold on the theory, but another man—Bullock—is pretty convinced about it."

"Alfred, go downstairs to greet them," Bruce said. "I'll be down shortly."

"What are you going to do?" Claire asked, after Alfred had left.

"What I have to," Bruce replied, heading into his closet. Claire didn't watch him, but she could hear him changing out of the rest of his armor into pajama pants and a t-shirt. He came back into the room, putting on a robe. It was just past dawn, so his apparel was appropriate. "I'm prepared for this," he said.

"And what if they ask you for an alibi for last night?" Claire questioned.

He approached her and kissed her briefly before adding, "Don't worry."

"The cops are just here to question you about being Batman—what do I have to worry about?" Claire asked sarcastically. "But seriously, they know the Batman was at a crime scene last night—where are you going to say Bruce Wayne was?"

"Do you have a suggestion?"

Claire did have a suggestion. An idea was forming in her mind, and although it felt like a bad idea at first, it might help Bruce in facing the situation downstairs.

Gordon and the others were already inside the penthouse by the time Bruce reached the foyer. He recognized the two patrolmen—Richards and Burns, and the third man had to be Bullock. He was a hefty man with a grim face and square jaw, and he wore the plainclothes of a detective.

Alfred was standing with them, and Bruce could hear Gordon asking his butler to fetch him.

"I'm already here," Bruce replied in his somewhat carefree tone. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm Lt. Jim Gordon," the detective said. "We have some questions for you."

"What about?" Bruce asked. "Because I really don't have time to waste this morning."

"You're going to have to make time, Mr. Wayne," Bullock said. "We need to know where you were last night."

"Where I was last night?" Bruce questioned, but he didn't have to provide answer. His answer was already on her way.

"Bruce! I can't seem to find my dress, so I'm borrowing some of your clothes," a voice called from the top of the staircase.

As she spoke, Claire turned so that she was now in full view of everyone in the foyer, but she acted as if she hadn't noticed that anyone else was in the penthouse other than the usual occupants. Her hands were busy braiding her hair behind her head, and her eyes were cast downward to watch the steps as she went down them. She was wearing her glasses, one of his button-up shirts, and a pair of his pants. She'd knotted the ends of his shirt at her midriff, and Bruce could see that she'd tightly tied one of his belts around her waist to hold the pants up.

Claire had come up with a good plan in Bruce's opinion. She'd only had her Blur suit and a spare pair of her glasses with her this morning, but she'd thought that she might be able to help Bruce with an alibi if she borrowed a few things.

Bruce had hesitated at first. He'd considered calling several women that he knew he could bribe into giving him alibis for the night, but Claire's offer was more tempting. He knew he could trust her to keep his secrets, and in honesty, he didn't want to have to use his rich, playboy persona any more than he had to. He'd rather spend his time with Claire than have some random bimbo on his arm.

Bruce knew it might be risky for her. If the police were able to identify him as the Batman, then Claire would be in danger for associating with him. But he couldn't say no to her—and he would protect her if things didn't go their way this morning.

Claire continued speaking as she walked, "I hope you don't mind, but I guess it doesn't matter if you do mind. I mean if you actually do mind, then you can probably afford to go out and buy the exact same clothes I'm borrowing, unless this is a billion dollar shirt or something. It's not, is it?"

At her last question, she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up, seeming to realize for the first time that the police were there.

She froze where she stood, and a look of concern appeared on her face as she asked, "Bruce, what's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, ma'am," Gordon answered. "We just had a few questions for Mr. Wayne."

Bruce started walking toward Claire as she asked, "Questions? What about?"

"We want to know where Mr. Wayne was last night," Bullock said gruffly.

"Last night?" Claire repeated. "Um…well…Bruce was with me last night. Why are you asking?"

"And who the hell are you?" Bullock asked, sounding angry and disappointed.

"What my colleague means," Gordon began, stepping in front of Bullock, "is that we're going to need to know your name, ma'am, for the record."

"Oh…of course," Claire replied. "I'm Claire Kent."

"We've answered your questions, detective," Bruce interrupted, as he stood beside Claire. "So could you answer our questions now and let us know why you're here this morning?"

"As you may know, Mr. Wayne," Gordon said, "the Major Crimes Unit of the Gotham Police Department has been tasked with hunting down and apprehending the vigilante known as Batman."

"And what does that have to do with where Bruce was last night?" Claire asked.

"The Batman was at a crime scene last night, and we have reason to believe that Wayne here is the creep behind the mask," Bullock replied.

"But I just told you that Bruce was here with me last night," Claire said.

"I'm betting the Batman could get the slip on you," Bullock said. "Probably snuck out once you were asleep and left you as his alibi. Wayne's got the means and motive to be the vigilante."

"So you think Bruce is Batman just because he has money?" Claire asked, incredulously.

"There's that," Bullock said. "And the sudden appearance of the Batman right after Wayne returned to Gotham, a string of no-shows by Wayne at big events—every time when the Batman was reportedly spotted at a crime scene, and a number of other strange coincidences."

"What nights do you need alibis for?" Claire asked.

"Claire—" Bruce attempted to interrupt.

"Bruce, I'm not going to let you be accused of being a criminal just to keep our relationship quiet," Claire said.

It was part of her plan. Claire had offered to stretch the truth regarding their relationship in order to cover for him. In reality, things might have changed between them only a few days ago, but they'd decided to tell the police that they'd been seeing each other for some time now. If the detectives needed to know where Bruce had been on a particular night, Claire intended to say that he'd been with her.

They'd also come up with decent excuses for why they would've kept their relationship private. One reason was the upcoming election. Bruce was a contributor to her father's campaign—if he were also dating the candidate's daughter, then that could create unwanted gossip.

And that was another reason they'd planned to give for the secrecy of their relationship—Bruce didn't want Claire to have to deal with tabloid reporters, chasing her down for some sort of trashy story.

"So do you need any further information, detectives?" Bruce asked, after he and Claire had shared their stories with the police. His arm had made its way around Claire's waist as they'd spoken, and he now had her pressed tightly against his side.

"Well, Mr. Wayne," Gordon began, "we'll have to follow up on the details you've given us this morning, but if everything checks out as you said, I don't see any reason why we can't close this case up. You and Miss Kent seem to have given us enough backup to support that you aren't Gotham's vigilante."

Gordon then offered his hand to Bruce, before saying, "I apologize for any trouble that we may have caused you this morning, Mr. Wayne."

"I understand," Bruce replied, shaking the Lieutenant's hand. "You were just doing your job."

"Thank you for seeing it that way," Gordon said.

Bruce was tempted to tell Gordon that he didn't have to thank him, but he wasn't about to give the detective any reason to suspect him of being the Batman again. And saying something that the Batman had said to Gordon might be too suspicious. Instead, Bruce merely said, "You're welcome. Now, if there's nothing further you need, my butler will show you out."

At that, Alfred stepped forward and pointed their guests back toward the elevator.

As the detectives and patrolmen headed for the door, Bruce turned to Claire.

"Nice cover story," he said to her quietly, but Claire didn't seem to agree. She had a concerned look on her face. "What is it?" he asked.

"I hope it was worth it," Claire whispered. She sounded worried, and Bruce suddenly felt a need to apologize for dragging her into his problems.

"Claire, I'm sorry—"

"No, Bruce," Claire interrupted him, still in a hushed tone. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid excuse I came up with, and I'm not even sure if it worked."

"I believed it," Bruce replied.

"Well, the two patrolmen are debating it," Claire began. "One of them thinks you must have a fetish for the sexy librarian type, and the other thinks it's something else. He bets I'm willing to—nevermind. I can't repeat that."

Bruce hated that she was going through this because of him. He didn't want her to have to listen to that sort of talk, and it bothered him that anyone would say something offensive about her—especially when he knew what an amazing person she was.

"Gordon's asking Bullock where he got his tip," Claire started up once more. "He seems kind of upset about it. Bullock says it doesn't matter; his source was reliable. Gordon doesn't think so—he's angry. He says that their office shouldn't be getting tangled up in some political gossip story. They have real work to be doing. Gordon thinks the tip didn't have anything to do with the Batman; he thinks it was just someone wanting to bring our relationship to light and cause trouble for my father's election. Bullock's still not convinced."

"I think I might have a way to help convince him," Bruce said, placing his hand on Claire's cheek and turning her to face him.

He kissed her then—not as desperately or passionately as he had earlier that morning, but slowly and purposefully.

Claire pulled back from him after a minute, a small smile on her face. "Bullock still thinks we're lying, but Gordon's completely on our side now," Claire said. "He thinks that maybe Gotham's playboy has changed, and there's no law against that."

"A farm girl helped reform my reckless ways," Bruce replied.

Bruce could hear the elevator doors open behind him. The detectives and patrolmen just had to board and then this would be over.

"Gordon's still not in the elevator, but all of the others are," Claire said. "Gordon's going back to Alfred. He wants to confirm that we said I'm from Metropolis, and Al said yes. Gordon's saying it's funny because I'm the second person he's run into today from that city. But now he's saying that doesn't matter; he just wants Al to tell you not to worry. If our stories check out, then this accusation about you being Batman will go away. And he's not interested in feeding gossipmongers. He'll make sure that his men don't say anything to anyone about us. And now he's saying his goodbyes and heading into the elevator."

Bruce knew what Gordon was referring to when he mentioned the people he'd run into from Metropolis. Out of all the officers working on the bomber case this morning, only Gordon knew that the Blur had shown up to assist the Batman. Bruce didn't know why Gordon would bring it up to Alfred, though. Did the detective know the truth about their alternate identities? If so, why would he say it didn't matter?

Bruce was pulled from his thoughts, though, when Claire spoke up.

"I guess I've just created a whole new mess for us, haven't I?" she said.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"Despite what Gordon said," Claire began, "we don't know if he'll be able to keep his men from talking. One of them might tell the wrong person—or might even sell the story to the tabloids—and then what? Bruce Wayne would then be linked to Claire Kent in Gotham City's records and maybe in the media soon too."

"I'm not seeing a problem here," Bruce replied. He didn't mind the thought of changing his public identity to include Claire.

"What happens if people ever find out that Claire Kent is the Blur?" Claire asked, sounding concerned. "They'll look up anyone I've ever associated with, and someone will find out about today and that I have some connection to Bruce Wayne. And then I'm sure they'd start prying into your life."

"And the reverse is true," Bruce stated, realizing Claire shared his fear. He didn't want their relationship to put her in danger, and apparently she didn't want him in danger because of it either. "But that's why we'll take precautions. I'll keep a closer eye on our cities' police departments and make sure they don't acquire any additional evidence that brings our identities into question. And I'll look into Bullock's source to find out who thinks I'm Batman and why."

"But there's more than just that," Claire noted.

"I'll deal with the gossip issue as well," Bruce said, knowing Claire's current concern. He knew that Claire never wanted to cause any trouble for her father, and if she became part of a publicized scandal, then that might cause trouble for Jonathan Kent—and his political campaign.

"How are you going to fix that?" Claire asked.

"By getting ahead of the story," Bruce answered. He knew how to spin a tale, and if he could provide the right version of their romance to the right people, then this might even work in his and the Kents' favor. "It'll mean going public as a couple and bending the truth a little. Are you okay with that?"

"I think I've already proved that I am," Claire replied, looking down at the outfit she'd put together from his clothes. "But are you? If you go along with this, aren't you going to miss being the womanizing Bruce Wayne?"

"No," Bruce said seriously, before wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling Claire flush against him. His lips were on hers instantly, kissing her without hesitation, as Bruce seemed to forget they weren't alone.

He remembered, though, the moment Alfred coughed and reminded them of his presence. Disappointingly, Claire pulled away at the sound.

"Forgive the interruption, sir," Alfred began, "but I wanted to let you know that the police are gone. And they don't seem to be leaving anyone at the building to be keeping watch on you."

"But someone might be watching," Claire said. "Whoever Bullock's source was had to suspect you for some reason."

"Well, I'll be sure to leave less of a trail going forward," Bruce replied. "Anything else, Alfred?"

"No, Master Bruce, but I would be happy to prepare you and Miss Kent some breakfast now that our surprise guests have gone."

"Actually, Al," Claire began, "what I could really use is a cab."

"What?" Bruce questioned, not understanding Claire's request.

"Bruce, someone already suspects you of being the Batman," Claire replied. "I think they would be more suspicious of you if they never saw your supposed girlfriend leave here using normal means of transportation."

"Why do you need to leave right now?" Bruce asked.

"Because it's a weekday, and for a normal person, that means going to work," Claire answered. "And if I'm going to make it to work anywhere close to on-time using just cars and trains, I need to leave now."

"You can take one of my cars," Bruce offered, knowing the speeds that most of his vehicles could achieve.

"I'm not going to take one of your fancy sports cars all the way back to Metropolis, even if you are planning on telling the world we're together," Claire replied. "Public transportation will work just fine…although I could use money for the cab fare and the train ticket. I'll pay you back, but right now my wallet is in a different zip code."

"You don't need to pay me back," Bruce said, after retrieving his wallet and offering Claire several hundred-dollar bills.

"That's too much," Claire said.

"Well, that's too bad then," Bruce replied. "Because if you want to leave here in a timely fashion, then you're going to have to take all of it."

"Fine," Claire said, as she took the cash from him. "But I'll be sending it all back anyway."

"We'll see about that," Bruce said, watching Claire head for the exit.

"I'm sure we will," Claire replied before saying goodbye to Alfred. She was soon in the elevator, and then with a brief wave, she was gone, leaving Bruce alone with his butler.

"Your timing was impeccable today, Alfred," Bruce commented sarcastically to his old friend. Twice today Claire had been in his arms, and twice Alfred had interrupted them. A part of Bruce doubted that it was coincidence.

"I'm just trying to look out for what's best, sir," Alfred replied.

"Look out for what's best?" Bruce questioned. "You don't think Claire's what's best for me? She's saved my life. She understands me. I don't know what more I could ask for in a woman."

"You're right on that count, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "But she could ask for more."

Bruce's brow furrowed at Alfred's puzzling answer, and his butler seemed to realize that he needed to provide a more detailed explanation.

"I saw how you two were this morning," Alfred began. "And I know that you're both different from the rest of the world, but have you even taken her to dinner yet? Have you done anything a normal person would do, or are you just diving in headfirst and hoping that neither of you drown?"

Bruce realized then that Alfred was right. They weren't normal, but that didn't mean they had to skip over every aspect of a normal relationship.

And besides, they were going public now, and Bruce could think of a few events that he wouldn't mind attending so long as he had Claire by his side.

Despite her best efforts, Claire was still late to work. No matter how much time she'd been forced to waste on public transportation, she wasn't going to show up to work wearing Bruce's clothes. Instead, she'd gone to her apartment and cleaned up first. Thankfully, though, her editor hadn't seemed to notice her absence by the time she arrived at the Planet.

"It was only a half-hour," Chloe reassured her. "If you'd been gone the whole morning, then the Chief might've picked up on it, but I think you'll be okay today."

Claire was glad to hear it. It had felt like she was moving at a snail's pace when she'd taken the train back to Metropolis this morning.

"So," Chloe began quietly, "was it the bombers that delayed you in Gotham or was it Bruce?"

Her friend had a knowing grin upon her face as she asked the question. Claire had told Chloe that something was now going on between her and Bruce, but Chloe was always desperate for more details.

"It was Bruce…and the Gotham Police Department," Claire replied in a hushed tone.

"What? Did the police have questions for you about the bomber case?" Chloe asked.

"No," Claire answered. "They had questions about whether Bruce was the Batman."

Claire then recounted the events of the morning to her friend.

"So you and Bruce are going public now after what—two make-out sessions?" Chloe asked.

"Something like that," Claire replied. She couldn't help the worry that she felt at the thought. Her earlier concerns returned regarding her and Bruce being linked—and what might happen to the other if one of their secret identities was revealed. But now other troubles entered her mind.

"You know, I think most people would be happy to be dating a billionaire," Chloe said, clearly noticing that Claire was distraught.

"I'm just worried it's too fast," Claire said. "It feels so right in the moment, but…"

"But what?" Chloe asked.

"But I don't want another repeat of Arthur," Claire answered. Arthur Curry—as Claire had known him—was the last person with whom she'd had a whirlwind relationship. He was tall, dark, and handsome; he possessed special abilities; and he understood her need to be vigilante—in fact, he'd even encouraged it. But then things had fallen apart between them.

"I highly doubt that Bruce Wayne is going to ask you to help him blow up a factory with people still inside just to get the world to pay more attention to marine life," Chloe said, summarizing the subject that had ended her and Arthur's relationship.

"Maybe not," Claire replied. "But with our lives the way they are, who knows what might go wrong in our relationship."

"So you're just waiting for something to go wrong—or for Bruce to do something wrong so then you can end it?"

"No," Claire said. "I just…"

"Don't want to get your hopes up?" Chloe asked. "Because there's no way for this to go right and for Bruce to actually be a good boyfriend?"

"Claire Kent?" a voice said from across the room.

Claire turned to see a tall, somewhat lanky, young man with brown hair and green eyes, trying to balance a thin package in one hand and a vase of red roses in the other.

"Yep, definitely no way he could be a good boyfriend," Chloe said, eyeing the flowers.

"I'm Claire Kent," she finally replied, and the man moved toward her, stumbling just before he reached her desk. Claire reacted on instinct, catching the vase and steadying the young man by grabbing his elbow. She hadn't moved at full speed, but it was still quicker than she liked to move in public.

"Nice reflexes," the man commented.

"Thanks," Claire replied. "Now what can I do for you?"

"Well, you already have the flowers, and this is yours too," he said, handing her the package. Claire set both items down on her desk and returned to her seat.

"You don't look like our regular delivery guy," Chloe noted, and Claire realized that the man didn't look familiar, and his clothes were more suitable for an office environment rather than making deliveries.

"Yeah, you're right," the man replied, running his fingers through his hair somewhat nervously. "I'm not the delivery guy. I ran into him on the way down here. He said he was having trouble finding Claire Kent, so I offered to take a look. I was headed this way anyway."

"And what brings you to the bullpen at the Planet, Mister…?" Chloe asked.

"Allen," the young man answered. "Barry Allen. I'm here looking for Louis Lane."

"Louis is out working on a story, but he should be back in the next hour or so," Chloe said. "Is there something specific you need from him, or could we help you?"

"I was hoping to talk to him about the Blur," Barry replied. "He writes most the stories about him."

"He does," Chloe said. "But we help out with those articles too. I'm Chloe Sullivan—"

"Chloe Sullivan?" Barry repeated. "You wrote an article about weapons smuggling not too long ago, and the Blur showed up and saved you."

"Yes, that was me," Chloe replied. "Now why are you so interested in the Blur? Are you a reporter?"

"No, I'm a forensic scientist actually," Barry answered, although Claire had trouble believing it. He looked too young for that sort of job. "I just started working for Central City's police department, and they have me reviewing a cold case as a sort of initiation ceremony."

"What's the case?" Claire asked. She couldn't help but be curious why someone would be asking about a cold case from Central City and the Blur.

"It was a homicide from back in 2000," Barry began. "A witness to the crime saw what he described as a yellow blur at the scene."

"In 2000?" Chloe questioned. "Our city's Blur hasn't been around that long."

"Or at least the Blur hasn't been in the spotlight for that long," Barry replied. "Who knows how long he's had his abilities—or how he got his abilities? If I can figure out what gave him his speed, I might also be able to figure out how the yellow blur did what he did in 2000, or if the two blurs are somehow related."

"Well, good luck with that, Mr. Allen," Claire said dismissively. What Barry had just said bothered her. She was the Blur, and she knew she hadn't been involved in a murder in Central City back when she was a kid, but she wondered what had really happened there. She wanted to talk to Chloe about it, but she couldn't do that with Barry still hovering. "Louis is down at City Hall. If you head down there now, you should be able to catch him."

"Thanks," Barry replied. "To both of you." He gave a quick nod to them and then headed to the exit.

"Do you know anything about a yellow speedster?" Chloe asked.

"No," Claire replied. "And I don't know of any Kryptonians that might have been involved. My cousin wasn't out of his ship yet, and the Zoners hadn't escaped the Phantom Zone back in 2000. Now I'm just wondering if there could have been some other alien involved."

"Or if there's a way for a human to get super-speed," Chloe suggested.

Either option seemed possible. Claire would need to do more research, though, to find out what really happened, but Chloe wasn't going to let her work on the case just yet.

"So what else did Bruce send you other than the flowers?" her friend asked.

Claire opened the package and pulled out a stack of documents topped by a short, typed note.

"To replace the dress. –B," the note read. Claire flipped through the rest of the paperwork and realized that it was for a bank account that had just been opened in her name. There was a debit card on the last page along with an account balance that showed $1,000,000.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, and Claire realized she hadn't responded. She'd been too shocked to speak.

"Bruce opened a bank account for me," Claire replied. Chloe's jaw dropped in surprise when Claire told her the balance.

"I can't keep it," Claire said. Her mind went back to the day after she'd first met Lex. She'd come home to find a truck from Lex in her driveway—a gift for saving his life. Her father had made her return it, and it had taken time, but Claire eventually understood why.

"This isn't Bruce trying to thank you, and you not wanting any form of gratitude for doing what you do," Chloe argued. "This is you dating a billionaire. Of course he's giving you extravagant gifts—but at least it's a smart gift too."

"How is this a smart gift?"

"It's a bank account, rather than a credit card," Chloe explained. "All of your transactions would be tracked if they're just done on a card, but with an account, you have access to cash. You can make a withdrawal and buy whatever the Blur needs without leaving a trail."

"Bruce shouldn't be funding the Blur's needs," Claire replied. "And I shouldn't be accepting something like this."

"You agreed to go public with the relationship, didn't you?" Chloe countered. "Well, this is just part of that. Stop trying to make up excuses and just go with it."

"What cases have I been neglecting since I started splitting my time between here and Gotham?" Claire asked.

The dramatic shift in the conversation caught Chloe off guard for a moment, but she recovered quickly.

"There is one case that I think you might need to look into," Chloe began. "After a report I received this morning, I think we might be dealing with a serial killer."

Chloe then explained that three women had been murdered over the last two days. The murders had occurred in different parts of town, so different police precincts were looking into them. In her own investigation, though, Chloe noticed that all three women had been killed after being seen alone at bars, and that they had all died from an odd hormone overdose.

"And all three victims had similar appearances," Chloe added. "Relatively tall, dark hair, and blue eyes."

"So I already look the part," Claire said.

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked.

"I mean that I'm going to find out whether you're right," Claire said. "Whether I can go along with this public relationship with Bruce and still do a better job being the Blur. I'll use his money to help with cases the Blur is working on, and it sounds like for this one, I might even be able to follow Bruce's instructions."

"What instructions?"

Claire tossed the note over to Chloe's desk, and said, "If I'm going to track down this serial killer, I'm going to need a way to attract his attention. I think a new dress might help me with that."