A/N: This is the second to last chapter of this story! Thank you so much for all the reviews and thank you to all those who have read this story. There will be a sequel in a very short amount of time after this story is completed. Thank you again so much and I can't wait to read the reviews!
Chapter 29
"Damn coffee…" she muttered to herself.
She had left the machine on while she slept and not only was the coffee now burnt, but it resembled sludge more than any actual beverage she had ever seen. Dumping the offending liquid into the sink, she sighed as she washed the carafe.
Turning to the coffee maker once again, she glanced up at the man standing in her kitchen doorway. Leaning against the doorjamb, he was watching her as she went about making something that could be called breakfast, even though it was closer to noon.
"Sleep well?" She asked.
Nodding, he sat at the kitchen table and watched the coffee brew. Frowning, Connie watched him while a feeling of increasing uneasiness came over her. Abandoning her attempts at making a meal, she sighed. Clearing her throat she licked her lips and sat across from him.
They stared at each other for a minute before she spoke. "You have a great plastic surgeon."
His slightly knit brow was enough of a reaction to spur her on. "Well, I didn't notice it the other night, after your accident. There were a lot of things I didn't notice then, actually. Anyway, though, you were gone for a few days and you come back…well, looking like you do."
He waited a few moments before responding. Even though he wasn't at his top mental speed, he knew he was treading in dangerous waters. "How do I look?"
"Ten years younger." Standing, she crossed her arms across her chest and started to pace the kitchen. "You walked like a man that wasn't hurt and I know for a fact you were. You look ten years younger but a hundred older at the same time…Bruce!" She said in exasperation, "There is so much bullshit going on here I don't know where to start!"
Leaning back in his chair, he took a deep breath. "You couldn't begin to understand, Connie."
Her eyes widened as her face reddened. With shaking hands, she gripped the edge of the counter top behind her. Thoroughly insulted, she wondered just how loud their conversation was about to get. "You sanctimonious bastard. What wouldn't I understand? Huh? You prep school pretty boy jackass!"
Standing suddenly, he moved so quickly her breath caught. Standing above her, he rose to his full height and put one hand on either side of her, effectively trapping her between him and the counter. "You don't know a damn thing about me, you mental snob."
Name calling was childish and also somehow satisfying, a tiny part of brain recognized. "You trust fund yuppie! Don't pretend as if your life is so complicated I can't possibly understand it!"
"You can't! It is that complicated!" Suddenly realizing how close he was to getting very angry, he backed off a step. "You have no idea who I am," he growled.
Scared and yet strangely excited, she swallowed hard. "Then tell me so I know."
He couldn't understand why he was suddenly breathing hard. She seemed to be doing the same. Her smell was intoxicating and her slightly parted lips seemed to beg him to kiss her. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to turn away from her and failed. "What do you want from me?"
"Honestly?" She asked. She was sure he would want the answer, but she decided to give it to him anyway when he nodded in response. "When I first came to Gotham, and when I first met you, I wanted to sleep with you."
"And now?" Did he want the answer? He was so overwhelmed with memories and feelings, he wasn't sure if he could handle if she asked for something he felt he couldn't give.
"Now I just want to figure you out." It was true, she reflected. She had a desperate desire to understand who he was. He was so complicated and she felt so deeply inserted into his life in such a short period of time that she knew she had to understand who he was.
He shook his head and finally managed to turn from her. He wanted to leave but he didn't want to go home. Sighing, he dragged a hand through his hair as his shoulders drooped. He had been trying to keep from thinking about how his life would change with his recent revelations. It was too much to think about, he thought. It was too complicated. His head was too fuzzy, he told himself. Until he was operating at a higher level of functioning, he needed to keep from concentrating on his new place in life, if he had one.
"I should go," he said softly.
"No, don't." Reaching out to him, she stopped the movement halfway and looked away suddenly. "Don't go, Bruce."
Turning back to her, he cocked his head to the side and studied her. "Why are you so interested in me?"
Her traitorous tongue responded before her brain had processed a response. "Because I've met a lot of people and you aren't like any of them. You…you aren't easy. And I've always enjoyed challenges." She looked up into his piercing blue eyes and tried to will him not to leave.
He simply nodded, as if considering a business proposition. It was a few moments before he spoke. "Coffee's done," was all he could say.
Nodding, she turned silently and took two cups from the cupboard. Setting them on the counter, she poured the coffee and tried to think of something to say to him that would mean anything. She didn't come up with anything good.
"You take it black."
He nodded at the observation and accepted the cup. Looking at her with a questioning eyebrow raise, she smiled.
"I noticed when I had dinner at the manor."
"You have a good memory." He knew he was more vulnerable than he had been in many years and that this woman in front of him unnerved him like few other women could do.
She nodded before sipping her coffee, also black. "I do; lots of training."
He nodded back to her. They sat in amicable silence for a few moments while she traced the rim of her cup with her forefinger and he stared at her doing it. Connie wanted to ask a thousand questions; Bruce wanted to remain in silence. The silence only held for a few minutes.
She took a deep breath before speaking. "You…are infuriating. I just want you to know that. I get it if you're not interested in anything romantic, even if it's just sex. That's weird, but I can live with it. But your absolute inability to communicate is infuriating. I think you're either lying or skirting around something and that makes me want to find you out even more."
When she had finished, he just stared at her. When he realized she wasn't going to get nervous under his glare he swallowed the last of his coffee and stood from the table. "I have to call Alfred, he probably thinks I…well, he thinks I've gone crazy."
"Have you?" Her question was simple and he was sure she had no idea how difficult it was to answer.
"I don't think so. Not entirely, anyway."
Smiling for the first time that morning, she looked at the table quickly before meeting his eyes again. "Maybe it's just a mid-life crisis."
He had to laugh at that, if only for a second. "I suppose you could call it that."
With that, he turned to her living room and sought out the cordless phone. Taking the device into the bedroom, he closed the door behind him. Sighing, Connie watched him go and she poured herself another cup of coffee. Smirking, she swirled the liquid in the cup and tried to pinpoint just when she had become so involved with Bruce.
It was only a few minutes later he emerged with the phone and put it back in its cradle. He didn't look happy, she thought, but he didn't look sad either. He had the strange neutral visage she found unnerving.
"How'd it go?"
Pouring himself another cup of coffee, he frowned at her question. "About how I expected it to."
"I can only imagine," she mumbled.
Sitting back down, he stared at her again. "You want me to stay…but I'm sot sure I should."
Standing, she came around to the other side of the table and leaned against it to look down into his eyes. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"
The close proximity of her to his body was enough to heighten his senses. "Sure…but I don't really want to be any of those places."
"Perfect…" she mumbled. Before she could think, she had inclined her head towards him and their lips were meeting.
Grabbing her waist, he pulled her into his lap until her hips was against his midsection. Crushing her to him, he ground his lips into hers. The pain and passion that had been coursing through his body and heart poured out through his lips and he was sure they would bruise when he was finished with her.
Breathing hard, she pulled away just long enough to tear her shirt over her head. "I want you," she whispered into his ear. Even if he was a strung out mid-life crisis having serial killer, she thought, she did want him. She desperately wanted him.
Growling into her lips, he stood in one fluid motion and swung her into his arms. Carrying her through the living room, he deposited her none to lightly once in the bedroom. Crawling over her splayed form, he growled from low in his chest.
The pain and rage and confusion welled inside him and he knew if he did not find an outlet in that moment he would go insane. Gabbing her and bringing her close, he crushed her lips to his once again and decided she would be the perfect way to loose himself. He needed to feel something other than pain, he thought, and she was the perfect way to do that.
