It took time, but chapter 34 is finally out. A twist will give the perfect opportunity for Wayne to put Miranda/Talia up against the ropes. Again, thank you to all my readers, followers and reviewers. Your opinion and feedback is very important to me. So, read and review.

Selina Kyle's outfit can be viewed here:

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XXXIV - Hard Bargain

Oswald Cobblepot's Campaign H.Q., Old Town District, Gotham City

Getting from the three story building's main exit to the parking lot across the street was like taking a long walk through hell. The whole route was lined with baying reporters, flashing light bulbs and a cacophony of questions aimed to provoke an impulsive response.

Oswald kept his mouth clamped tightly shut and ignored provocations like, "Did you have anything to do with Mikhail Nurkadilov's death, Mr. Cobblepot?"

"Is it true that your nightclub is in fact a criminal den?"

"Do you believe this might be a vilification campaign against you used by the opponent candidates?"

"Is it true that you befriended members of the Vory v Zakone when you lived in London?"

With his eyes fixed directly ahead Oswald just kept on going with no less than six personal security men grouped around him like protective wolves guarding the king of the pack.

Through it all the questions kept on coming and the camera bulbs flashed, catching his severely features locked in an expression that was unable to reveal the slightest hint of his emotional state. Though, inside, his fury was simmering on the point of eruption.

He was getting used to being the centre of media interest lately. But nothing they had said about him before had been as bad or as potentially damaging as this.

He hit the end of the curb and crossed the street to the waiting full-size luxury sedan where his chauffeur stood with the rear door open at the ready. Dipping into the leather-padded interior of the car, the door shut even before he had folded his long frame into the seat. He froze as he noticed someone sitting on the fair side, obscured by the shadows.

Shimmy into an little black dress with a strapless neckline that showed off a great pearl collar, Selina Kyle looked up from under a large floppy black hat. She nodded politely at Cobblepot. He, on the other hand, was poker-faced.

"Fancy seeing you here, Miss Kyle," he lanced at her, rough toned, as the car started to move.

"Bad time?" she asked seductively.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, annoyed.

Selina studied her bright red nails by the light thrown into the car.

"Hmm… I was getting bored and I just kinda thought we might have a talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. Unless, of course, you already have something concrete to me. I'm starting to think rumor has lied about you."

"I'm close, but I warned you that it would take time."

"I don't have time, kitty cat. Get to the point," he said, making an impatient gesture with his hands.

"Next Wayne extravaganza is coming up in a few days," Selina pointed out as she handed him a newspaper. "Word is Bruce Wayne himself is gonna use the occasion to launch his new grandiose project."

"All eyes will be focused on the party. Seems the perfect opportunity to pay a visit to 'the vault floor'," she continued as he glanced through the article announcing the upcoming party held by Wayne Enterprises.

"To me it seems the perfect opportunity for being catch by an army of well trained security guards. And neither one of us wants that," Oswald countered.

Selina looked out through the side window and clicked her tongue before turning her eyes to him again, "I'm not expecting much trouble. However, Batman may be an issue."

"Well, if the job was easy…"

"Yeah, it wouldn't be any fun," she finished for him.

Oswald blew out a long breath. "What I meant was if the job was easy I wouldn't waste my time hiring an expensive international thief. I can get some goons working up on it. But I strongly recommend that you use everything in your sizeable bag of tricks to prevent any further interference from Batman."

"Since you're bringing up the payment issue," Selina began as she pulled a tiny piece of paper out of her cleavage and handed to Oswald. "I maintain a Swiss account for financial transactions. Here's the number."

He took it. "We agreed – half on arrival, the other half when the job is done."

She pierced him with her eyes. "Why are you so engaged in ruining this company? Why risking yourself so much? Your greed is so that great?"

"I want to bring Wayne and everything related to this name to their knees. His family destroyed mine. This... Well, let's just call this good, old-fashioned revenge."

"Uh… I see," she said carefully and then added quickly, "You can drop me here."

"As you wish," he said, then pressed the intercom button and told the driver to stop.

As Selina reached for the door handle, Oswald stopped her by placing his hand over hers saying, "Miss Kyle, if you do everything right I'm seeing to it that your own ambitions has been rewarded far beyond your current ability to imagine."

Selina turned and stared back, expressionless. Then she exited the car with her usual class and disappeared into the crowd.

Lucius Fox's Office, Wayne Tower, Central Business District, Gotham City

"Mr. Fox?"

Lucius Fox stopped what he was doing and glanced at Bruce Wayne over his shoulder. He dismissed his secretary and turned to the younger man.

"Mr. Wayne, glad you could make it."

"So what did you want to see me for?"

"Let's take this to my office."

They entered Fox's office. Fox went behind his desk and offered Wayne a chair across his desk. Both men sat down and smiled awkwardly at each other.

Bruce broke the silence, "What is it that we are here to discuss?"

Fox cleared his voice, appearing some hesitation.

"Well, let's cut to the chase. In the last few days, while discussing our proposal with the board members, some of them shared a few concerns about you."

Bruce contemplated the other man in silence. What his friend was voicing out loud was nothing new to him.

Fox continued. "Some of them believe having a person of such questionable moral character in the highest representative position of Wayne Enterprises makes no good for the company's reputation, or its image with investors."

Bruce shook his head in confusion and growled impatiently, "Questionable moral character?"

"Don't take it personally. They all just want what's best for the business."

Bruce's frustration and resentment rose when he thought about the risk the old bastards on the board were taking by not seeing the forest because of the trees. Whether they recognize it or not, it was his name on the building, and his family name still meant something in the business world.

"The hell they do," Bruce lashed out. He joined his hands in a gesture of apology, his bad mood dissipating a little. "I'm sorry, Lucius. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I'm just sick of being judged by those old dinosaurs on the board."

"I understand your revolt. But it's a question of time before some stupid proposal to out you as president emerges to be voted."

"They wouldn't step too far, would they?" Bruce asked in his deep, low voice.

"Don't worry. We're not gonna let that happen," Fox assured. "You've got the family dynasty behind you. You owns this goddamn corporation. Not to mention you'd run the business himself in the past. However," he reasoned, an expression of uneasiness twisting his mouth, "I think we should give them something to chew on."

Bruce leaned back in his chair. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I've been told that your flamboyant personality is bad PR and that it might be good for your image to get married – or at least to be engaged to someone."

Straight dark eyebrows lifted in response. Fox's logic escaped Bruce. "I assume this is some sort of joke?"

"I assure you I wouldn't make a joke of such a serious matter," the older man replied stiffly.

"That sounds archaic. Where did you get that from?" Bruce asked, his eyebrows dipped low as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

"The directors want a president who shares their values of decency and morality, someone who embraces a more settled life – they don't enjoy seeing pictures of you and your latest mistress spread across the pages of the gutter press. They all agree that you have responsibilities now."

The thing with publicity is that while you can influence it, ultimately you don't get to choose, Bruce thought, annoyed with himself. That night with Vicki Vale was proving to be worse than he had expected.

As just Fox mentioned the word 'responsibilities' only one thing came to Bruce's mind, "Damian…"

"Precisely. I've consulted our public relations experts and all of them came up with the idea that's about time you to settle down. To found a wife. To build a proper family."

Wayne gave his CEO the kind of look that indicated he was insane.

"Don't look at me like you think I've lost my mind. Think about it. You're the public face of the company. The reason the board of directors are dragging their feet is because investors see you as a risk. You're nothing but a player to them. A liability. They listen to the rumors. Your exploits get magnified ten times before they get back to the board." He paused and crossed his arms over his chest for emphasis. "Solution is simple. If you want to get this crap mended then you need to get a wife, and quick-fast."

Bruce held Lucius' stare until it faltered, and the older man shrugged.

"No, Lucius. I can't support this bullshit. We have been friends a long time, but this… This is an outrage. No one has a right to meddle into my personal life."

"Don't sound so bitter, Bruce. What I am suggesting to you is that you give the board members something to calm them down. It would be a make-believe marriage, nothing more, just something to buy you some time."

"For God's sake, Lucius! This is the twenty-first century… I can't see how someone might agree to an old-fashioned arranged marriage."

"You'd be surprised if you knew how it isn't so uncommon among the men at your level of power and wealth."

A silence passed as Wayne reflected on the proposition. He pondered that thought for a moment, even picture it, and then pursed his lips.

He steadily concentrated on the man sitting in front of his desk. "Strictly a publicity stunt, huh?"

"Yeah," Fox answered, nodding his head for emphasis. "Come on. It won't hurt this much. There has to be 'some' amusement value in looking for a future wife. I would guess that any number of women would line up to marry you."

Wayne raised a semi-amused eyebrow. "Sorry for my lack of enthusiasm. But only a maniac or a trifflin' gold digger would accept to be the lucky future Mrs. Wayne under such conditions."

"Actually, I already have the perfect candidate in mind," Fox said cryptically, waiting for the shock value to sink in before smiling.

"Oh, you don't…" Bruce's gaze went from annoyance to surprise in a flash of dawning realization. "Who? Miranda?"

"Why not? Miranda has been your main ally and you two have a son. She's a shrewd investor and a great businesswoman herself, whose support has been integral in your succeeding. Not to mention she's a great looking gal. In other words, she's a perfect match for you."

"Tempting, but she'll never agree to that. My relationship with Miranda is…" Bruce paused for a beat or two, until he finally exhaled. "complicated. We try to get along because of Damian, but she keeps chasing me out of her life most of the time."

Amusement glinted in Fox's chocolate-colored eyes. "I'm sure you can figure this out."

"You don't get it, Lucius. She's one tough nut to crack. How do you expect me to convince her about it?"

"Just be your charming and brooding self. I mean, the women seem to dig that."

Bruce scowled. "It's not gonna work. Not with her. Miranda is a sui generis woman."

"Have a little faith, Mr. Wayne," Fox counseled, less than impressed with Wayne's almost outright refusal to take the opportunity that fate was presenting to him. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"Yeah. What, indeed? How about the chances of her ripping my head off?" Bruce's eyes flared sardonically. "You're probably the worst matchmaker, ever, Lucius."

Fox could not help but smile. "I wish you all the best."

Wayne abruptly stood up from his chair and walked over to the door, not without casting a hard glance at his old ally though.

"I pay you an obscene amount of money to keep you at the head of an empire. Is this the best idea you can come up with?"

Fox pursed his lips as an attempt to fought the urge to smile once again.

"Yeah. You pay me a ton of money to have your back. I'm telling you what you have to do to win this fight. Picking a wife would definitely be the lesser evil. Now it's up to you. Good luck and good day."

As he left the room, Bruce shook his head, still trying to absorb all words Lucius had said. He getting married to Miranda Tate? The same woman who seemed to run away from him like the plague? And who was making his decision to win her back rocking even him on his heels?

As if.

She would never accept this. Unless…

"Uh, hi, Mr. Wayne."

Tam Fox's soft voice broke his train of thought and he turned his considerable attention to the young woman. "Hello, Miss Fox."

"Is everything okay with Damian? I mean, he hasn't been coming to R&D anymore, nor answering my calls and texts."

Alarm detonated inside him and his jaw muscles bunched while his mind tried to fathom what was going on between his son and the adorable Miss Fox. He forced his most charming smile across his lips, still holding her speculative stare.

"He's fine. He just has been devoting himself to his preparatory studies and hasn't had much time for other matters."

Bruce could not help but notice the momentary flash of disappointment in her eyes as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Could you please tell him to contact me? Any time."

"Sure, I will. Now if you excuse me I have to go, some business I have to do. It was very nice to see you," he said, and then immediately turned on his heel.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. Have a nice day," Tam murmured as he swept past her.

"You too," Bruce replied over his shoulder.

Given Damian's behavior towards the girls, Bruce doubted the kid had inherited the 'play hard to get' genes of his mother. So it looked like something odd had happened between the youngsters that caused the boy's estrangement.

He filed that thought in the back of his mind for a closer look later. Now Bruce had things demanding priority with which he needed to worry about.

Bruce Wayne's Office, Wayne Tower, Central Business District, Gotham City

It was three-thirty and Bruce was still sitting at his desk. He had spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in meetings with suppliers and potential investors. Then one last meeting with a group of philanthropists and he was finally ready to left for the Manor.

Trying to work a bit more was a waste of time and after a few seconds, he gave up. He could not get Fox's advice out of his head. His suggestion for him to move on to something more serious and definitive caused him realize that maybe he just was not cut out of that kind of relationship yet. Not that he had not pondered the issue before. But back then, he had not been betrayed, deceived and entangled in a plot of revenge by the woman he loved – and who supposedly loved him in return.

Damn directors. They were not only messing around with him, they were messing with his preferred stock, his inheritance, his family name, and his heart.

He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his face impatiently as a mix of anger and sadness burned in his chest. Making a mistake could be disastrous and he was not going to suffer a fool again. What if it happened again?

What if?

Bruce tried to dust the doubts from his mind while conflicting emotions took over his heart.

He had never wanted any woman the way he wanted Miranda and was determined to have her. She was the only one he had ever met who owned the amazing ability to excite and turn him on while at the same time delighting him in her intelligence and stubbornness.

All the time he had not been able to stop wondering how it would be being awarded every day with Miranda's beautiful and soft body, her smile, her voice. A lifetime beside her and their son, living as a real family, would be like hit the jackpot. It felt so right and, at the same time however, something so far from being achieved.

When he had phoned her this morning to talk about the remaining aspects of a deal it had been pure torture, because he had had to force himself not to let the conversation veer towards anything too personal.

At least for a while.

On the surface it seemed easy. All he had to do was to convince her to marry him. Trouble was Miranda was treating him with cool disdain. How on earth was he going to succeed? If he really wanted to win her he would have to resort to some 'vigorous persuasion'. He knew he was really good at it.

This was no time for caution. Universe was giving him a second chance to do the right thing, the only thing he could. Tying himself to the mother of his son. The only woman he truly loved.

Even so, all the logic in the world could not stop the atavistic dread freezing Bruce's veins. He first had to overcome his fear of loving and being left behind. He was almost sure he could not bear the possibility of being let down again. He knew there are no guarantees of happy endings. But at least he had to try. Because being alone was not good enough anymore.

Resolutely, he stood up, picked up his jacket and walked out of his office.

"I'm going to get off now, Jessica. See you," he told his secretary.

Jessica looked up and replied, "See you, Mr. Wayne." She watched with fascination as her boss strode to the elevator, whistling.

Cave beneath Wayne Manor, Palisades, outer Gotham City limits

Looking a little anxious, Damian went down to the cave – or the Batcave, as he nicknamed it – late that afternoon. He emerged from the elevator and walked into the high atrium-ceiling area to meet his father at the Dojo training hall.

"I got your message. What's up?" he prompted.

"I'm just in the mood for training today," Bruce told him with a small smile on his face.

The teen crossed his arms over his chest and did not try to conceal his annoyance. "You know, I was supposed to be at mom's tonight."

Bruce quickly realized what he was up to. Clearly Damian was acting uninterested.

"Yeah, but I thought you might like to keep your butt kicking skills at their best."

"Well, luck for you I've been feeling like sponging a meal off Alfred. I'm fed up with frozen meals and fast food everyday. Nothing like freshly cooked meal."

"Is Miranda still looking for a housekeeper?"

"Yeah. There's a maid who comes twice a week. But we've been managing on our own most of the time."

"Go ahead. Put on something more comfortable," Bruce counselled him, tilting his head to the changing room door.

Several minutes later, both Waynes were standing opposite one another over the tatami in their standard-issue tracksuits. Time had flew by since the session had begun, and they were engaged into battling one-on-one in hand-to-hand combat training.

Although quite sweaty, Bruce was winning. However, the young Wayne's speed was impressive and he was determined to learn, so his attacks were overaggressive. Bruce was amazed by his son's level of stamina.

Suddenly Damian delivered a strong blow to the gut and elbowed Bruce in the chin. The older man smiled and stepped back.

"You're good, but never underestimate any enemy you face. Confidence is a necessity, belief is essential, but if you venture into arrogance… That won't be the last bullet we will have to remove from your bones."

Damian nodded and drew a deep breath. "Mind you if we take a break?"

"Not at all. In fact, I have something I'd like to discuss," Bruce announced with a wary glance as he passed a squeeze bottle of isotonic drink to Damian.

From experience, Damian knew that what his father get used to discuss was usually some new prohibition in his life or the standard parental lecture about being safe.

Most of the time he felt guilt about lying and breaking his part of the deal. A part of his mind suspected that he had not been believed in his excuses. But he had no choice since Bruce would never be able to understand why the he had made this decision in the first place. It was not a bit easy deceiving his father, especially when Batman seemed to have security cams scattered all over the city.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he looked up to face Bruce.

"What would you say if I told you that I was thinking of getting married?" Bruce probed softly, his eyes searching Damian's.

The teen's jaw dropped. He stared blankly at his father who was doing his best to keep his poker face in place.

"Married? To who?"

"That was going to be the second part of my question," Bruce said. "But the first thing I want to know is just how you would feel about me getting married ... in general?"

"How can I tell you how I feel about you getting married if I don't know who you're marrying? I didn't even know you were going out with someone," Damian paused and then realization came down, "Wait a sec, are you talking about that redheaded reporter?"

"No! I'm not talking about Vicki Vale. I haven't been dating anyone," Bruce corrected. He would have labored through an explanation, but the kid cut him off.

Damian studied him long and hard before saying, "You're thinking of marrying someone you haven't even come out with? It's not logical. Not to say it's pretty dumb."

Bruce placed his hands on his hips and hesitated before saying, "I'm going to ask your mother to marry me."

"What?" Surprised, Damian sat down on the mat. He did not trust his own legs to keep him standing. Since his parents had met up again he harbored the romantic idea that this time they would fall in love once more and get married.

"That was what I just said. If she agrees to marry me, then I'll devote my life to making you two happy."

"Does she know that you intend to ask her?"

"Not yet."

The lad looked at him in humored perplexity as he inquired gently. "But what if she won't have you?"

"She will."

"But..."

"I know what I'm doing. Trust me, when it's right, you know," Bruce replied in a confident tone.

Okay. He knew he needed to come up with a bullet proof plan to get Miranda to own up to her feelings for him first. As much as he wanted to believe it would all work out in his favor, there was a part of him that was terrified she would not want anything to do with him afterwards.

"When are you going to ask her?" Damian managed.

"Soon"

"Isn't it a bit out of sudden. I mean, what propelled you into... this marital adventure?"

"Why do people marry, after all?"

"One should never marry just to marry."

"Too true," Bruce conceded in his deep gentle voice. "I've decide I want to spend the rest of my life with her. With you both. As a real family."

"Wow!" Damian's eyes lit up and his face wrinkled into a toothy smile. "Oh, don't forget about Helena. Mother is trying to adopt the kiddy. You know, if you want her you'll have to take the whole package. Three for the price of one."

Bruce could not help but smile as well. He had learned to get fond of that little girl in the short time they had spent together.

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, I just want to know how do you feel about it."

Damian stared at him in disbelief. "You want my permission?"

Bruce took another sip of his drink and tilted his head forward a little.

"I'm trying to do it right."

The kid laughed mirthlessly.

"Man, I'm sorry, but how do you expect this to work out when you barely talk to each other? Unless you guys are dating in secret."

Bruce remained silent and just arched a brow and flashed a wicked grin in response.

Damian chuckled with a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Are you?"

"I just happen to have a ace in the hole."

"Sounds more like a bluff than a plan," the teen observed, but judging by Bruce's formidable expression he was not going to get more out of him even if he pushed.

"You're really such a killjoy."

"I'm being realistic. Besides I can't picture Batman as potential family man material, if you know what I mean. Mom said you never wanted to make any form of commitment to a woman before, save to Rachel Dawes. From what I heard she was your true love."

Bruce froze.

Rachel.

Only the sound of her name still brought the old feeling of guilt and unfulfilled duty.

She once had had a special place in his heart. He had grown up assuming that he and she would go through high school and college together and then get married and begin having it all – children, friends, and careers, a lifetime spent improving Gotham City. But both had ended up following distinct paths.

"Well, Rachel is not my true love any more. I'm not sure she ever was. I did love her once. But there are many kinds of love. I never really thought about anyone else a lover besides her, because she always seemed like the obvious choice. I think not being able to have Rachel made my feelings for her seem stronger than they were. It wasn't till I met your mother that I realised what true love is all about."

"Then why did you leave?"

The question stirred up memories. Bruce closed his eyes and in a split of second flashes from the past came up in his head.

Flashback

Bruce Wayne's apartment, about three miles from Princeton University, seventeen years ago

Bruce shifted as quietly as he could on the bed, propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at the woman sleeping contentedly next to him. The first lights of the breaking dawn filtered through the slats of the blinds, bathing the room in a soft, romantic glow, and making her robin pendant necklace glisten even further, just above the curve of her bosom.

God, she was beautiful. From the very first moment he had laid eyes on Miranda Tate twenty months ago he had been rendered speechless – and the effect still had not worn off.

But it was much more than her exotic beauty and sexy accent that held him spellbound. It was her sweetness, generosity, wit and refreshing honesty all wrapped up in a luscious package that made her a unique woman. He loved how easily she brought a genuine smile to his face – something that had been lacking in his life for a very long time.

She somehow seemed to bring him an inner peace he had never known before, and also had managed to make him feel young and light hearted again. And with a sudden pang of regret for things to come, Bruce realised that he was going to miss her. Very much.

Damn it! This was all an unfamiliar territory to him, this maelstrom of emotions that was playing hell with his heart.

It was a situation he had not foreseen when he had decided to deepen their relationship. A man like him never had cultivated intimacy, nor had his romantic relationships endured. Aside from Rachel, – and Alfred, of course – he had never allowed himself to get too close to anyone since his parents' death.

Miranda, with her silky chocolate hair, her limpid blue-grey eyes and her fresh-faced innocence, was certainly not the sort of woman he fancied himself drawn to. He generally went for tougher, more experienced types – women with obvious attractions, who were as willing as he was to have a brief, passionate fling. Women who were ships passing in the night, never dropping anchor and more importantly, never expecting him to.

One look at her and he had recognised a girl who would be into anchors being dropped, but it had not been enough to keep him away. His libido, like everything else in his life, was just something else he had learnt to control ruthlessly. He had had no intention to become a slave to his hormones, but he had conveniently chosen to ignore that because she had bewitched him.

Weeks had become months, and so, that past summer, they decided to take three months off abroad, working as volunteers. At that time, it had seemed a fitting interlude between the conclusion of university and the start of his Masters degree or whatever else he intended to do the rest of his life.

Before he threw himself into conquering the world and putting his own personal demons to rest he would immerse himself in the selflessness of helping other people – people as unfortunate as he himself had been, although in a completely different way.

For three months, they had been thrown together in circumstances so far removed from reality that it was almost like living in a bubble. The last two weeks had been entirely dedicated to a well deserved rest at the Wayne's luxury villa in Belize, where they shared only each other's company.

The summer euphoria – with its long, lazy days and endless nights of love making – came to an end and replaced by the harsh reality of the autumn. And then back came the disquieting thoughts.

Bruce lay back and stared at the ceiling in silence for a few seconds. Of course he had known that this was where they would end up. Their relationship did not have a future, and the news of Joe Chill's hearing just brought forward what was already coming. The monster inside of him – which until then had been asleep – had awakened, making the fire of revenge to stir up in his veins with all its strength.

He drew in a long, slow breath as he slowly slipped out of the bed, and then pulled his clothes on as quickly as possible. Just over half an hour later, he was ready to depart.

Miranda, who had awoken not so long ago, glanced at his single suitcase, packed and standing to attention by the old-fashioned wardrobe. Dressing in a pair of jogging bottoms and an old long-sleeved jumper – that made her look much younger than she really was –, she put the hot coffee mug on the counter and walked over to him silently. Moving up behind Bruce, she embraced him from behind, and then reached up and skimmed her hand along his muscular chest.

"What's on your mind, beloved? You're so quiet."

Bruce swung off her impatiently and kept rummaging a drawer filled with papers, unconsciously trying to postpone the inevitable moment. "Just checking out a few things."

"Do you want me to go with you? Because if you do, I…"

He cut her off, "No need to. Alfred and Rachel are going to be there."

"I know, but…" her voice faltered.

Hearing the trepidation in Miranda's voice, Bruce reluctantly turned to face her and took a chance, a big chance, by stroking her dark hair off her face, neatly tucking loose strands behind her ears.

"I'm sorry, princess," he admitted heavily.

She took his hand in hers, brushing her cheek over his palm.

"I know all of this has been hard for you, but remember that I will always be here for you. I love you," she whispered.

It was the first time she said those three words to him, which made everything harder.

"Please, don't. I'm not worth it."

Miranda glanced up, her eyes filled with confusion.

"What?" she asked, her voice thick.

Pain burst through him. "I don't love you. I have nothing to give you. Nothing."

She eventually raised her eyes to his and looked at him coldly.

"All of this is because of Rachel? You're dumping me so you can be with her with clean conscience?"

"This has nothing to do with Rachel, Miranda. I'm sparing you the pain of building false hopes. You're young, with stars in your eyes… You deserve happiness."

Bruce was beginning to feel sick. His rehearsed approach was getting nowhere.

"You're not exactly over the hill, Bruce!" she argued, desperation gnawing at her.

"In terms of experience I'm a thousand years older than you, and I'm not the man you're looking for. I would be no good for you…"

"Looks like you don't know me at all," she muttered, and then added, the words bursting from her, "Let me take care of you. Let me give to you. Take from me. Take it all, I don't care."

It was obvious Miranda did not care about her pride, not in that moment.

He pulled away from her abruptly, taking a step back. Then his shook his head as if to emphasize his words. "No. Because you want love. You deserve love and I can't." The words sounded broken, his chest constricting painfully. Miranda had practically begged and it had not been enough. He did not want to love her and he never could.

"How can you say that after all we've been through together?"

"Easily. I have no room in my life for that fairytale stuff."

"That's it? Thank you and goodbye?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you," she said, her voice breaking. She raised her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek, her fingers trembling. "I think you're going through a crisis or anything like that because of all the bad memories that murderer brings to you, but once you come back to your senses, you'll see you're wrong."

Bruce gritted his teeth, but there was nothing to say in response to that.

Silently and visibly hurt, Miranda scrambled around the room to gather her stuff, then picked up her purse and left Bruce's apartment without a backward glance.

Bruce walked to the mirror, braced his hands on the edges of the vanity, and looked at his reflection, hating the man he saw.

"Coward," he said. "You are a coward."

The worst kind.

All it took was she getting to close. So he ran, pushing her away because he did not want to deal with feelings that he had previously associated with pain and heartache. He was afraid of feeling pain again. Of opening himself up. But he was open already. He was feeling already. Lost already. In Miranda Tate. In his love for her.

Love?

Yes, love. It was not the safe haven love he felt for Rachel. Nevertheless, it was deeper and stronger than anything. It was a love born not of a single moment but of hundreds, thousands, of small recollections.

Steadfast, Bruce picked up his suitcase and let himself out of his apartment. He had a train to catch. And deep down, he knew he would not return to that place again.

End of flashback

"Cuz my feelings scared me to death. I was a young man with issues that wouldn't stop until could get revenge. My mind was a chaotic mess. There was no room for true romance."

"I see," the kid said quietly.

"Look, I can't change the past. But I do can shape the future." That said, Bruce took a towel and wiped his sweaty face and neck, determined to end that subject. "Enough about me. What's going between you and Tamara Fox, huh?"

Damian blinked at the sudden change of subject.

"Aw c'mon! What is this? Some kinda father and son bonding moment?"

"Don't try to get off topic."

"Nothing is going on," Damian finally answered, avoiding eye contact. Though the teen appeared to be cool and composed, Bruce noticed a nerve twitching in his jaw.

"She said that you have not returned all her attempts to get in touch with you. I thought you guys were friends."

Damian shrugged.

"Haven't got time."

"Do you fancy her?"

"Not anymore."

"Did she turn you down?" Bruce persisted, and for a moment he thought the boy would blow up at any time soon.

Damian rose to his feet and faced Bruce with a stony, unreadable expression. Nevertheless a hint of disappointment had crept into his voice. "It was just a one-sided infatuation. Guess I'm a sucker."

"And who is not when it comes to matters of the heart?" Bruce offered, putting a hand on his son shoulder, feeling a bit useless. "Now, less talk, more action."

He looked away briefly, then attempted to strike Damian in the head. The kid blocked the punch incredibly fast. Bruce smiled proudly.

"By the way, you have my permission and blessing," Damian said as he held out his hand which Bruce shook it firmly.

"Thank you, son," he replied, and next spun around, delivering a kick to Damian's chest.

The boy collapsed into the floor. Bruce walked over to him, reaching out his hand.

"Always be prepared for the unexpected."

Through Gotham City Streets

A black Chrysler 300 was crossing the streets towards East. Inside, the distinguished occupant of the back seat flipped through the channels of the TV monitor in front of him.

"Batman raises questions. We all know that…" a television commentator said.

"...gang proliferation has been rising," the anchorman of another channel informed.

"I think it's a mistake to lack at Batman's return in purely physical terms. I think it's a symbolic resurgence of the common man's will to resist," the female guest of a famous debate TV show declared.

He turns it off. A little anxiety started to develop till the car finally pulled up in front of an under-construction high-rise building.

Dini Building, somewhere at north-east of Gotham

A reunion of sorts was taking place on the first floor of the building. Nearly seven men – between traffickers and minions – were gathered around an improvised table made with construction material.

"The hell you say. You didn't set this up? Then whose party is this?" one of them said. A tall, strong, blonde, thirty something guy, sporting prison tattoos all over his bare arms. His shell jacket was in a tight roll under his arm.

"I thought it was you. I figured you were gonna ask us for a partnership or something like that," a second guy countered. This was dressed more formally. Still, it was evident that his rusty brown suit had seen better days.

"A partnership? Are you nuts? Why would I share the little I get, huh? Isn't it enough what the bird man has been pilfering from my profit?" the third one – a latino type, flaunting a small paunch under expensive designer clothes – said.

"Tell me about it," guy number two told. "He whacked six of my crew in a month. Six. Some of my best people."

"Oh, the hell with this. I'm gone. You brain donors wanna hang around..." guy number one began, but was interrupted by a demanding, strong voice.

"Sit down, Barney."

Everyone stared in disbelief as a dressed to the nines figure stepped out from the shadows, displaying a smirk as well as a small glare in his eyes.

"It's my meeting," Penguin declared.

"It's him," guy number two said under his breath.

Barney turned to him in confusion. "Who?"

After an awkward pause, Penguin walked over them and said, "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the one who goes by the name of Penguin."

"We didn't do nothing," Barney said a little bit exasperated.

"Well, we all know that's a lie."

"Hey, I know you. You're one of the candidates for mayor. The club's owner dude," Barney said as if he had made the greatest discovery of all time.

"Indeed. But I'm afraid this kind of info will not leave this room. If you know what I mean."

Guy number three stood up. "What the hell do you want from us?"

"Listen to me, you drug-peddling scumbags. I'll be running the drug and the gun trade from now on. You gentlemen are the most prosperous street dealers in Gotham. I'm offering you morons a deal. You go about your business as usual, but kick up fifty percent to me."

Guy number two tilted his head ahead. "So what are we going to gain from that deal?"

"In return, you will have total protection from both police force and Batman."

"Okay, crazy man, this is all very generous. But why in the hell should we listen to you?" guy number three spat.

Penguin motioned to his henchmen, who came closer, carrying a large black suitcase. They set the suitcase over the table and opened it. The men peered through the suitcase as a strong odor of decomposing flesh took over the room.

Guy number two turned and vomited in disgusting.

"What the hell…" Barney muffled under his hand.

"Those are the heads of everyone who dared to challenge me. Make no mistake. I'm not asking you to kick in with me. I'm telling you. Fifty percent works for me."

"The hell if you think I…" Guy number three called out but was promptly interrupted by the sound of at least a dozen guns drawn pointed at him.

"It's a much sweeter deal than you'll ever face again. Got it?" Penguin asked with a smirk.

Guy number three nodded and Penguin stormed out of the building.