You Must Know Who I Am

by restfulsky5

Bruce fights to regain the parts of himself that he lost while saving Gotham. In a twist of circumstances, Selina finds herself right where she wanted to be - by his side. He fears that he'll never know her the way he imagines. She discovers that he's been right about her all along. Post-TDKR. Now a Superman crossover. CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN.

38. Chapter 38

Author's Note: You get a novella this time around rather than two chapters. :D I *almost* split this one up but made the decision that certain scenes just couldn't wait for another chapter.

Thank you, cmbmsu, for taking the time to beta and encourage me each chapter. I'm incredibly grateful! :)

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoy this one! FYI, this chapter begins shortly after the last one ended. And just as a refresher...Coleman Reese changed his name to Justin Caller. :)

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Selina took one last, thorough look around Caller's apartment.

She'd kept it simple. Sparse was a more accurate description. Maybe classic. He wouldn't have many extras with him when he arrived, in any, and she doubted he'd go on a shopping spree to fill his own cupboards, drawers, and closet. It was up to her. Except for a few small things, she'd followed Bruce's instructions.

The lawyer now had more to his name than Selina imagined he'd had in years, since he worked at Wayne Enterprises—one extra sheet set, two blankets, three sets of towels, five pots and pans, four sets of dishes, limited utensils and cooking tools, cleaning supplies, and two shelves of food staples. She'd furnished his bedroom with a bed and a narrow dresser, adding a soft rug for warmth; the living room with a couch, two end tables, recliner, and another rug; and the kitchen and dining area with a table and two matching chairs and small hutch for anything he may have brought back from his travels. There was no television but she had bought him a radio and a newspaper subscription.

She placed a pair of slippers on the rug by the bed. She didn't know anyone who'd refuse something like that, not when they'd have to walk on hardwood floors.

She also hung a fall coat she'd purchased at a local thrift store on the hooks in the entryway. She'd shopped at the thrift store, believing it to be the only clothing store this man would actually enter. After slipping coordinating gloves into the coat pocket, she added the receipt in case Caller wanted to take it back. It wasn't quite autumn yet, only nearing the end of summer, but she'd heard the change of season came on quickly around here. She hoped he'd keep the coat.

Who knew what the man's wardrobe was like. She imagined he wore the clothes on his back.

Satisfied the apartment wouldn't overwhelm a man who'd lived on food he'd hunted and gathered and lived on a dirt floor, she decided her job was done. She set two gift cards to grocery stores down on the table, turned off the light. Just as she locked the door behind her, a text came through her phone.

It was Annette.

Her heart was in her throat even before she read it.

Let's do lunch tomorrow, like we used to? Green's Cafe.

Her stomach churned. The invitation read like a farewell.

Caller would be here in just a few short days. Although no mention of Cora had been made, Annette was now aware that Bruce and Selina planned to adopt children of their own, this lawyer the key in their endeavors.

Annette's walls were shrinking. This text was proof.

When had been the last time they'd gone shopping together? Or out to lunch? It'd been months. Not that it was anyone's fault. There'd been the wedding. The honeymoon.

Now they were all adjusting to Bruce's life as a disabled man.

It saddened Selina to think that one of the few friends she actually had would soon be gone from her life for good. Worse, that she'd soon be the one to tell a sweet little girl that her mother had abandoned her.

She replied that noon would be fine and drove home on autopilot. Hands shaking, Selina left the car outside the garage. She walked through the side door into the kitchen, clutching her purse and continuing through the hallway when she didn't find Bruce.

She had a feeling he'd be in the study. Thinking. Lesson planning. Taking notes for his lectures. Or-brooding. Especially if the tests had revealed Mister Kent to be the flying vigilante.

She entered without knocking, Bruce immediately looking up from his desk. He wore the low-prescription reading glasses she'd gotten him just yesterday.

"How's Justin's apartment?" he asked.

"It came together better than I expected."

"He'll be an easy person to please," Bruce said matter-of-factly.

She nodded, paying more attention to the delectable image he made. She rued the day she'd ever thought buying him glasses was a good idea. He looked even more gorgeous as a professor, a studious man with dark secrets, lazy smile, and hair that had reached his shoulders again.

"I changed my mind," she said decisively. "Maybe you shouldn't wear those."

He didn't bat an eye. "You're upset."

Wordlessly she handed him her phone, Annette's text on the screen.

"I'm sorry," he sympathized, looking up with a pained expression.

"I never make friends," she spat, steeling herself against his sympathy.

Jen had been an exception, and she'd left her behind. Now Annette was leaving Selina behind.

Karma.

"I know," he murmured, setting her phone on the desk.

"It won't be so easy the next time," she said.

If there even was a next time to make friends.

"It may be hard, but don't close yourself off if someone comes around that could be your friend, Lina," he wisely cautioned her. He wheeled himself away from his desk and came up beside her. "Sit with me?"

Feeling oddly fragile but knowing this man could make help her feel whole again, she slipped onto his lap. Against her better judgement, but she needed him. His strength, his support.

The chair he used hadn't stripped him of his power. On the contrary, he was her rock more than ever now. Always there. Always loving her. Always Bruce.

She barely stopped herself from clinging to him like a wet blanket. She sat with most of her weight on his right leg. It was somewhat awkward but her athleticism and flexibility more than made up for it.

"Relax, Lina," he said, arms folding around her. "I won't break."

She traced his jawline with her fingers, only slightly bending to his will. "What will we tell Cora when the time comes?"

"The truth."

Selina's breath caught. "Bruce…"

"I lived eight years of my life believing a lie my father told me." Bruce's jaw clenched under her touch. "I won't do that to Cora."

"She'll be crushed."

"Her heart will break more when she realizes we never told her the truth," he stated adamantly. "We'll keep it simple, Lina, so that she understands. We'll tell her that Annette left her with the two people she believed could keep her the safest and best care for her." He paused, adding tenderly, "We'll tell her we love her."

"Maybe we could take a trip to the beach sometime in the next few months?" she suggested. "It'll be awfully hard for her once Annette leaves. She'll need something in her life to distract her. We have the circus coming up, but I saw your class schedule. You'll have a week open this fall."

"I'm not sure she's ever been to the beach—or how I'd get around—but..." Bruce's voice hitched. "I'd love to take her."

Sensing his hesitance, a new insecurity stemming from his disability, she brushed his hair back and left a trail of kisses along his forehead. Touching him, gratifying him. She grasped his wrists, locking them into place on the arms of his chair with a firm grip of her own. He made a muffled, pleased sound, though he could've overpowered her at any second, even without the use of his legs. His upper body strength was a force to be reckoned with, increasing everyday as he operated his wheelchair and lifted heavier weights than ever before.

But she'd disarmed him, asserting a little power without taking pity on him or his legs. Taking advantage of his surprise, she claimed his mouth, the immediate passion exchanged between them almost bruising. She parted his lips with a flick of her tongue, eagerly wanting more of him. A few seconds later, and she felt his arms give in under her grasp. They fell like liquid into place. The kiss deepened. Bruce began to let go even more.

His body practically molded to the chair, Selina never feeling more at home on his lap and in his arms.

Even when Bruce had been walking, it had never been like this between them.

Never.

She should've locked the door.

"We should do this more often," he quipped, kissing her along the curve of her neck. His lips finding the spots that made her go crazy.

She hummed noncommittally, a tingling sensation sweeping over her. "We will. You're a professor," she said, breathless when he found a particular golden spot. "In a study. I'd love to take your class. Never knew it would be one of my favorite things."

He pulled away, eyes flashing, darker than ever. "Kinky."

She slipped off his lap before he could steal another kiss.

He sighed if she were strangling the life out of him.

She turned her head, hiding her smirk. She loved when he was frustrated and utterly starved for her. It made the chase that much better. And since the medical order restricting Bruce from sex had been only recently lifted, the chase was probably killing him.

"You're okay about the beach?" she asked innocently.

"I suppose," he replied unconvincingly.

She made a circle around him. Always just out of reach.

"Lina," he protested, twisting his head to find her. "What…?"

"Are you always this impatient?" she taunted, going behind him.

He turned his head again, failing to see her. "Only when it concerns you."

She placed her hands on either of his shoulders, her thumbs pressing into his muscles with deliberation.

He groaned.

Selina frowned, using her second hand on the right side to assert more pressure. "I didn't realize you were this tight, Bruce."

He grunted. "I didn't, either."

"We should find someone who can make house calls," she murmured in his ear.

He fell silent.

"I'll take that as a yes?" she asked.

"You have no idea how good this feels," he said hoarsely. "Can you do this again tonight?"

"It's possible," she demurred. "It depends."

"Oh? On what, exactly?"

"Are you alright with taking a vacation on the beach?" she asked again.

He paused. "I'll do it for Cora. And for you."

"Don't worry," she said. "We'll find areas that with wheelchair accessibility, get a condo for the week. You can wear shorts the entire time if you want. No one will see the braces, Bruce. Except for your private masseuse, of course."

"Right," he breathed. "But, getting around in sand..."

"Don't worry about it," she soothed him. "Let me take care of the arrangements when the time comes."

"Letting you handle the trip?" His tone brightened. "That'll be a nice change."

She stopped the massage and pulled the glasses off his face before he got too comfortable, folded them, and placed them on the desk.

"I'm a little confused," he said amusedly. "Here I thought you wanted me to have those as part of my professor get-up."

"You have no idea how good you look in them," she explained, mouth curving downward in a slight pout.

His lips twitched. "And that's a problem?"

She smirked, just imagining if their places were switched.

Bruce wouldn't be able to handle it.

"How would you like it if I wore a nice little professor number and a cute pair of glasses while I taught boys fifteen to twenty years younger than you?" she asked coyly.

"I'd hate it," he blurted out. "And I'd come in every day just to make sure they didn't try to kiss you. Maybe find a spot in the corner where I can glare holes into their backs. Or the front, where I can strike an imposing figure, and trip them on their way out."

"Those poor boys," she murmured as his embrace tightened, locking her against him. "They wouldn't know what was coming."

Bruce hummed, his breath warm along her cheek. "But what if I need the glasses?"

She hadn't thought about that. He was getting older. "Do you?"

He pulled back, hesitating. "Maybe."

She reached over, grabbed the glasses, and unfolded them. "For more than reading?"

She returned them to his face. She slipped back onto his lap, as well.

Bemused, she realized they were right back at the beginning.

"I hope not," he muttered, arm sweeping possessively around her hip.

She curled into him. All this cuddling they were doing. This touching. She absolutely loved it and she was damn sure Bruce did, too. In fact, she was always touching or reaching for him now. He did the same when she was in reach—and she could read it in his eyes when she was not.

They'd simply never touched each other this much when Bruce had been walking. She wasn't sure what this meant for them.

Maybe it was good. Or bad. Maybe a mix of both.

One thing was for certain—she'd be a starved woman if it was taken away from her.

She stilled, falling completely silent. How close she'd been to having it actually be true.

"Lina?" he asked, bewilderment growing on his face.

"You're perfectly imperfect," she flattered him, to see his confidence rebuild. "It's adorable."

"Adorable? Whatever happened to sexy?" he protested.

"Adorable," she said pointedly.

He sighed. "I've been demoted."

She cocked her head. "Well, at least you now have something in common with Mister Kent besides the whole vigilante thing."

Bruce gave her a wry grin. "He doesn't need the glasses. I can actually read things up close now."

She ran a hand through his hair, letting her fingers pass through its entire length. It was getting longer. Much longer. And she liked it, maybe more than she should, especially when he looked so studious.

"So you ran the test," she said nonchalantly, trying to get her mind off of Professor Bruce.

"Apparently, Mister Kent used up quite a few frequent flier points to visit us."

"You'll have to talk with him, Bruce."

"I know." He nodded. "I was just going to see if Alfred and John could come in so we could discuss things together."

She slipped off his lap again. "I'll get them." She glanced at the computer, curious when she saw several wheelchairs on the screen. "You're going to buy another chair?"

"Maybe a lighter one," he admitted, running his arms across the chair's handles. "Sometimes this gets...heavy." He scratched his chin. "Clunky, even. Especially if I have Cora on my lap to take her somewhere." His eyes raked over her. "Or you."

"A lighter one would make it easier one you." Selina couldn't wait to see what he'd chosen. Maybe there were others he needed. She was sure they made chairs specifically designed for athletes. "Mind if I take a look, too?"

"I don't need any more."

"You need as many as you think you need," she interjected. "One for the trail in the woods. One for maneuvering in smaller places. Maybe one for a night out on the town. A black one, without scuffs."

He blinked at her.

Twice.

"I didn't mean to overwhelm you," she said dryly.

He broke into an unexpected smile. "You didn't." His brow suddenly twitched. "Not much, anyway. It's like you said. I'm just...perfectly imperfect."

She rolled her eyes. He smirked, his biceps bulging as he gripped the wheels of his chair.

"About my order. I'll just leave you in charge of that. Get whatever you think I'll need. Alright?" He propelled himself towards the door. "I'll find Alfred and John."

Selina narrowed her eyes, scrolling down through his cart. "You wanted overnight shipping? Bruce, do you realize how much..."

He tossed her an innocent look.

She sighed, shaking her head. "...I love you to agree that paying over two hundred dollars to ship your wheelchairs is worth it?"

"I guess we live out in the boondocks." He grinned before moving out of sight.

Boondocks or not, wheelchair shopping for Bruce provided far more entertainment than she expected. But she'd had an idea. Several, in fact. After a few clicks, she found what she wanted and finalized her—Bruce's—order.

It was a good thing Bruce had already chosen such quick shipping. Selina wasn't sure she could keep this purchase and its- more sensitive nature—a secret for very long. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she'd just finalized the cart as Bruce returned with Alfred and John.

It wasn't likely that Annette would make her grand exit now, while the rest of them were behind closed doors, leaving Cora to tend to herself.

But the thought crossed her mind and she stood by the door, unwilling to join the others near Bruce's desk.

She didn't know what Annette was waiting for, since it appeared the woman had been planning her departure for weeks. The more Selina thought about it, the more she decided Annette was selfishly hanging on. It took all the control she had not to stalk out the door and demand Annette decide, once and for all, whether to go or stay. Selina didn't have the heart to confuse Cora any longer.

Bruce took his time, something he seemed to enjoy doing these days. Or maybe it was the 'professor' in him. The part he was practicing for the fall, coming out when it suited him. Like now. He sat at his desk, hands clasped, head bowed.

"I'll invite him here," he finally murmured. "Tell him to come after we put Cora to bed and to knock this time."

"Well said, Master Wayne," Alfred praised him.

"He's going to want to know everything, Bruce." Selina hated to even think of spilling their secrets again. The risk was there, even if Clark Kent could be trusted. "How it all began, the Joker...Bane. Talia."

Bruce lifted his head. "And I'll tell him those things, as long as he gives a little, too. I also think one of the very first things he'll need to understand is you, Lina," he said carefully. "He couldn't have pieced your story together with just a few random visits. And that concerns me."

"You mean you'll have to explain why you married a criminal? A woman who should be dressed in orange as we speak?" She finished with a sardonic laugh. "Lois Lane wrote several articles about me. Did you read the one about how I escaped pris—"

"Lina, stop," he pressed gently. "I'm concerned, but I think he knows there's more to you. Otherwise, he would've already taken action."

Thoughts racing, she moistened her lips with her tongue. Mister Kent and his partner could very likely be holding her future in their hands.

"I'm the only one who can explain that to him in the context required," he clarified. "I'll meet with him alone."

"You think he's going to be upset," she realized after a moment. "About...what I did to you."

It was understandable. Superman represented everything good. He did everything good. Bruce's ways were darker, Selina's more so.

"Lina," he said softly. "I only think it may take him a little time to wrap his mind around the concept that I fell in love with you. Marrying you."

It hurt to think of her betrayal. Not as much as it had in the past. But enough.

Because of that, she'd do absolutely anything for this man who loved her and treated her like gold.

Her chest squeezed, but she forced all the confidence she had into her reply. "I understand."

His eyes cautiously probed her for more.

"I do understand, Bruce," she repeated. "I know Mister Kent will need to know my history with you to understand our life here."

"If you're okay with it," he said slowly.

He'd have to whether or not she was okay with the idea. "I am."

Bruce's gaze fell on the window, as if he were searching for the man himself. "I'll meet with him alone," he repeated. "And then...we'll see about bringing Miss Lane into the picture. It's possible he already told her who we are, but I hope he hasn't. At least, not yet."

Alfred cleared his throat. "Maybe he has, maybe he hasn't, but you can't draw wool over the eyes of a reporter of Miss Lane's caliber. She'll be very suspicious, at the very least," he wisely reminded them. "Sooner or later, she will find her answers, Master Wayne. And they may not be the right ones."

"Then we better plan to tell her first," Bruce drawled.

"It's a perverse intrusion of privacy if you ask me," John crossed his arms. "Who's to say he isn't listening now?"

"I don't blame him for what he did. Given the circumstances, I would have done the exact same thing. But, I don't believe he was here as often as you think." Bruce grinned. "And I know for a fact he isn't listening now."

"You're rather smug about it, sir," Alfred observed.

Bruce wagged his brows. "I sent him a message this morning."

oOo

.

.

.

Next time you're around, use the front door.

If you're amenable to the idea of actually talking, come after Cora's bedtime.

-BW

P.S. Don't forget to knock.

.

.

.

"'Don't forget to knock,'" Lois murmured, reading Clark's email again. She bit her cheek. She was dying of laughter on the inside. "I think he'll give you a mouthful for spying on them."

"If he doesn't, I'll be disappointed," Clark announced from the kitchen, hands in sudsy water. "I deserve it."

It was going to happen. Clark was going to have another friend, someone else he could confide in. It would mean so much to him. That fact became clearer to her every day.

Her stomach flipped. Hopefully this man would want to be friends.

Sir Percy or Alex or BW or whoever he was.

"BW?" She slipped out of the chair and came behind Clark.

He always did his dishes this way—the old-fashioned way. Because it reminded him of his mother, whom he often visited, but the relationship he had with Martha was special. Lois had never known a mother and son could have the same closeness that Clark and his mother had. It was almost...magical.

"I can't say, Lois," Clark said, frowning at her. Probably because she'd 'accidentally' come across the email.

"They have a daughter," she ascertained confidently. "And he definitely knows you've been watching them. What's her bedtime?"

"Eight."

"How old is she? She must be young."

Clark shook his head. "Lois…"

"So he sent this to you early this morning. How are you ever going to stand it?"

"Stand what?" Clark finished rinsing his last bowl and set on the rack.

"Waiting," she exasperated.

"Well, we do have work," he replied carelessly, now cleaning the mug she preferred when she was there. "We both have big deadlines coming up."

"What are these?" Lois picked up the Manila envelope on the kitchen counter, the edge of a photo sticking out.

"No, L-Lois…" Clark stammered. She turned her back quickly before Clark snatched them from her with his suds-covered hands. "Give those…Lois. Don't—"

She pulled out the photograph. A slim, weathered and bearded man was smiling, arms around a boy who'd lost part of his right leg. They were in a hospital, obviously, the people around them poor—but also happy. She pulled out another photograph, this one of a group of children and the same bearded man waving to the cameraman, just at the edge of a jungle, with a hut behind them.

He expelled an exasperated breath. "Lois, I need those."

"Clark, where were these taken? The Amazon?" She peered at both of them, identifying the clothing of the villager's.

He frowned at her, drying his hands with his dish towel.

"I need those, Lois," he demanded again.

"I only wanted to see…"

He gently pried them from her hand. "I know, Lois, but they're a peace offering. I need them," he emphasized slowly.

"For Alex. Or BW," she acknowledged, now understanding. "To apologize for all of the listening?"

"Yes." Clark painstakingly tucked them back into the envelope. "I don't know if they'll be of any value to him, but I had to try."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You know I was only curious."

"I shouldn't have left them out," Clark frowned.

He set them back on the counter, anyway.

"I'll be right back, Lois. I should shower and change. Then we can leave." He walked briskly to his room.

Lois pulled out her phone. She snapped a shot of each of the five 'peace-offerings.'

She replaced them in their envelope, perfectly sealed before Clark returned.

"When will you leave tonight?" she asked as he held the door open for her.

"I...uh. Eight?"

She smirked, walking briskly down the hallway. "You're nervous."

"This is a big deal, Lois. I could say the wrong thing, or not enough things. Or I could spoil it all by flying to his front doorstep."

"He can't hurt you can he?" she asked, voice possibly shaking.

They took the elevator. Thankfully, they were alone

She glanced down at her phone as Clark pushed the button for the ground floor. God, she hated it when she sounded nervous. She hated it even more when she looked nervous.

"No," Clark defended. "He wouldn't. That's not even a concern, Lois."

"So you'll have the upperhand?" she wondered aloud. "You better," she muttered.

Clark didn't answer.

Exasperated, she tried to find the right words. "Clark, you have to understand. You aren't telling me a single thing about him, and I won't even know where you're going. What if something happens? What if it's a...a trap? What if you get hurt and no one can find you?"

Those weren't the right words, but they were the only ones she had.

Clark's jaw ticked. "It's not a trap. He won't hurt me. I won't have the upperhand, though. There's something quite intimidating about him. Intimidating, even though he's in a whe—"

Lois frowned. Clark wielded his mouth shut at the most in opportune time, of course.

Even though...what?

"Intimidating' doesn't exactly assuage my fears, Clark." She pushed her hair behind her ears and stepped out into the lobby.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll do everything I can to convince him you need to know his identity, too." He hesitated. "There are a few things I'm sure he's wary of, given your...expertise."

"You mean because I'm a reporter," she stated easily.

That gave her a lot to consider.

Clark did love her to give her that much.

"He's an important man in the public eye, isn't he?" she pondered aloud. That could possibly make his wife...the criminal. But not a hardened criminal. What kind of man would marry a criminal, anyway?

"Maybe," Clark hedged, glint in his eye. "You'll figure it out. It's only a question of...when."

"May I remind you that you are the one who invaded his privacy," Lois retorted, thinking quickly. It would be best if she let this alone, maybe gaining this man's respect in the long run. And anyone else he was associated with. If she didn't press for answers, maybe this BW would go easier on Clark for snooping. "I'm not going to do the same. Don't say anymore, Clark. Whatever it is, I don't want to know."

"And the photos you snapped of my peace offering?" he asked.

She halted at the doors. "How'd you…? Oh, never mind."

"You're predictable, Lois," Clark said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She huffed a sigh and pulled out her phone, deleting the photos without thinking twice.

He double checked over her shoulder then gave her a peck on the cheek. "For the record, I think you made the best decision."

"I know I did." She turned up her nose. "At least one of us to refrain from being a Peeping Tom. It might as well be me."

And the least likely of the two of them.

She gave a second thought to what she was doing—or not doing, rather—and kicked herself. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Handing over my right to investigate what I feel like could be the biggest story of my career."

"This is the best choice, Lois," he pleaded, eyes begging her to understand what she already did.

"It's for Cora, isn't it?" she asked. He had a soft spot for the innocent, especially children. If this man was anything like Clark, maybe he did, too. "This need to protect them."

Clark's expression stripped bare.

She had her answer. They were, inherently, good people.

"For any of the children they may have, yes," he admitted softly. "They need this world they've built."

She could hardly wait to see this particular world but she reined herself in, flouncing away, instead. "Who knows, maybe they'll decide to invite me to dinner and treat me like a queen before spilling their secret."

"Lois," he claimed, catching up to her. "If they invite you to dinner, you won't know what hit you."

oOo

"Be careful," Selina cautioned Bruce as he maneuvered into the passenger seat of the car.

"I will be," he said with far more patience than he actually had.

Because he wasn't in the car quite yet.

He'd been sitting on the side of the seat for a few minutes already. His feet planted on the driveway. His stubborn left leg incapable of moving well on its own at all.

He bit back a curse, remembering his promise—and the five year old in the back seat, eyes peeled on him.

"Would you like me to help you?" Selina asked, standing a good distance away, hands clenched at her sides.

Watching him as if he'd erupt like a volcano before her very eyes.

And he just might, if he dwelled on his predicament too long.

He shook his head. "No."

He'd move his own leg. His knee was stiff, painful to the touch. But all the more reason to take Cora to the park so he could stretch his legs. Not to mention that the change of scenery would be good as he planned what he'd say to their visitor tonight.

"Okay," she murmured as he placed his hands around his knee. "But I could get one of the muscle relaxers for you."

He glanced up at her, shaking his head. "That would defeat the purpose of this whole trip."

"Tonight?" she pressed. "It may help when I massage your back again."

Sensing that this was a fight he wasn't going to win, and she was right about the massage, he caved. "I'll take one tonight."

He moved his leg, finally getting himself fully into the car. Sighing instead of whining about his condition. Closing his eyes when the ache in his knee made him want to vomit.

"Alfred," Selina began, startling Bruce. He opened his eyes to see her craning her neck to look at the elderly man sitting in the driver's seat. "Hold onto his elbow by the pond."

"Alfred does not need to hold my hand," Bruce muttered under his breath.

"Very well, Misses Wayne," Alfred chimed at the same time.

"It's a sidewalk, Lina," Bruce protested. "Not a hiking trail."

"It might as well be Mount Everest," she said evenly. "Especially today, Bruce. It's not one of your better days."

He gave her a look. "Mount Everest has snow. The park does not, at least not yet."

She folded her arms, unamused. "Bruce, it's a sidewalk with cracks. It's also uneven. You could trip and fall and plunge headfirst into the pond."

She was partially right. It did have cracks.

"Maybe you should rethink this." She lowered her voice, glancing briefly back at Cora, who'd begun staring at them with wide eyed curiosity. "It's important that you walk for a short interval every day, but I'm not sure you should do that at the park."

"I'll be fine," he said. "Please don't worry."

"When you come back, we'll eat and then get Cora to bed a little earlier," she asserted, drawing her mouth into a firm line.

Bruce rested his head on the back of the seat. "I love you."

His token apology. Covering everything from his bad mood - to bad choices.

But going to the park was not one.

She didn't smile, but she did kiss him one last time before they drove off. "Be careful."

Once they arrived at the park, Bruce did have second thoughts about his plan. It was busy for a weekday afternoon, but then again, it was summertime.

He stopped his chair at the edge of the grass, looking for the ducks Cora liked so much. She leaned against his shoulder, humming to herself. Unconcerned by the fact that the majority of ducks crowded on the other side of the pond.

"May I suggest over there, Master Wayne," Alfred said, pointing to a relatively clear spot near a group of children.

"That will be fine," he agreed. "Cora?" he added softly. "If you wait for me, I'll walk with you."

Her beautiful smile was contagious. He wheeled his chair through the grass and onto the sidewalk and stood with his cane, that smile getting him through eight steps before his unsteadiness and the strain on his leg and general stiffness halted his progress. He stopped, unable to regain his footing, leaning on the cane as if his life depended upon it.

"Would this be all for today, sir?" Alfred asked.

It wasn't a question.

Bruce inhaled deeply, invigorated by the air. "No." He grinned. "I've hardly begun."

Without a word, Alfred handed him a water bottle. He drank, gulping most of it down.

"Let's keep going," he breathed, giving Cora a smile.

He'd never seen a more beautiful day in Winterfield, and since they were here, he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could. Even if he was forced to walk slower than he ever had in his condition. Slower than he'd walked in his entire life. More or less dragging his left foot when he couldn't lift it off the ground.

Dr. Chase's words about his loss of balance came back to haunt him.

They'd walked what seemed like a mile before he'd realized his body couldn't take anymore. He glanced back, hope plummeting. They'd only gone about thirty feet. Not that Cora minded. She stopped every step or two herself. Throwing a duck some bread. Talking to it. Humming the same tune as before.

Bruce could hardly bear to straighten his back. His walk was done for the day, cut shorter than he wanted it to be.

"And tonight, I'm going to meet with a man who flies," he muttered under his breath.

"Master Wayne?" Alfred asked.

At his side, after holding onto his elbow this entire time, Alfred had most certainly heard what he'd said.

"I should've saved all this walking for when I saw Supes," he reluctantly admitted. "So I could be standing when I meet him face-to-face. It'd be much more intimidating, don't you think?"

"That is a curious nickname," Alfred remarked, making no mention of his aforementioned weakness. "And I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you're sitting in your chair when he comes flying through your front door. You, are, after all, the lord of the manor. Standing or not."

"Lord of the manor," Bruce scoffed, squinting up at the sky. "That title should belong to someone else."

"Do not forget, Master Wayne. Your body is not a representation of your mind and heart."

"So this is your idea of a pep talk." Bruce winced.

"I believe he is intimidated by you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have respected you by giving you time."

"Time to procrastinate, you mean," Bruce deadpanned.

Alfred paused. "Time to come to your own conclusions, even about him."

Cora tugged at his hand. "Daddy," she whispered, peering up at him, bottom lip wobbling.

Bruce leaned down as much as he could to hear her. "Cora, what's wrong, sweetheart?"

She squeezed his hand, eyes darting past him.

He turned his head, brows raising when he saw a group of four boys about halfway to the other side of the pond. Four boys, who by all appearances, were pointing and laughing—at him.

The boy who looked to be the oldest held a stick, mimicking Bruce's laborious gait with his cane.

"Look, he can't even lift his leg," he jeered. "He's a crip."

"No, a beaten dog," another laughed.

The two and one other companion carried on in laughter and more calls he wished Cora hadn't heard. All three ignored Alfred's hearty glare. But one boy, distinguishable by his red hair, slunk behind a tree as if to hide as soon as Bruce caught his eye. He leaned against the trunk of the tree, sliding down to sit, peering out at Bruce every few seconds.

"I should give them a piece of my mind." Alfred's hurt was heard in each wavering syllable.

"Crips shouldn't be allowed to come here," the oldest boy scoffed louder than was necessary. Several bystanders turned their heads, peering around until they saw who he was ridiculing—Bruce. "They take up too much space for us, the people who can actually walk. They shouldn't even be allowed to breathe our same air."

Cora let go of Bruce's hand and wrapped her arms tightly around his leg, smashing her face into it.

Alfred drew himself up and took a step forward.

"Let it go, Alfred," Bruce murmured, placing his hand on the older man's shoulder.

"But, D-D-Daddy, they're b-being m-e-mean," Cora whispered, choking on a sob. "I h-heard them…"

Bruce had, too.

Cripple.

Crip.

Gimp.

"They have no respect for their elders, Master Wayne," Alfred said, the pain in his voice clear as day. "They should be reprimanded."

Bruce squeezed Alfred's shoulder, holding him back. "They will be," he murmured, wondering if the stern faced man stalking towards the boys was their caretaker. He looked like one of the assistants at the orphanage Bruce had seen afar when he'd met with the administrator. "It's alright, Alfred. Their actions can't hurt me."

"B-but Daddy," Cora cried softly, tugging at his shirt. "What th-they said…!"

"Neither do their words hurt me. They don't understand, Cora." Bruce stared straight at the jeering boys. He narrowed his eyes, trying to locate the redhead. The only one who'd seemed somewhat remorseful. It was as if he'd disappeared into thin air, leaving his friends behind for the scolding. "And they're afraid."

"I d-don't like the-them," she whimpered, burying her face in his leg again.

Bruce tightened his hold on his cane to balance himself and wrapped one arm gently around the child clinging to his leg. "Alfred," he said softly. "My chair. It looks like it might rain. We should head home."

"Certainly, sir." Alfred nodded, pushing the wheelchair to Bruce.

He sank carefully into his seat and pulled Cora onto his lap. Placing his hands on either side of her face and wiping away her tears with his thumbs, he stared into her eyes. Her compassionate heart made her a prime target. He worried that she'd be bruised even more, very soon, by her own mother.

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes with a fist.

"I know it hurts to hear words like that, but they didn't make me feel bad. In fact," he continued, giving her a smile, "I feel sorry for them."

"Wh-why?" she cried in a small voice.

"They could be confused or afraid of my condition. They could also feel badly, themselves, so badly that they want to try to hurt someone else to make themselves feel better," he explained as Alfred pushed his chair to the car.

Her lower lip trembled again. "Those words make me feel sick in my tummy, Daddy," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle.

He stroked her head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured. "And that hurt may stay for a little while, but it'll go away soon, Cora."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Can you hold me when I get home?" she asked. "Would that help me forget the bad words?"

"It would, and I'd be glad to," he said, voice thick with emotion.

They reached the vehicle, and Bruce had the same difficulty getting into the car as he'd had before. Alfred lent a hand. Bruce was certain that without it, he would've been stuck at the park.

Selina had been right to worry. He shouldn't have come, not when he'd known from the start that this had been one of his 'bad' days.

"You did well, sir," Alfred encouraged him once he was seated.

"I'm not too sure about that, Alfred," Bruce confessed. The reality cut deep. "I can see now why Selina didn't want me to walk here."

"Sir?"

"My balance." Bruce admitted. "It took half of my concentration just to remain upright, Alfred."

The walk was simply not worth it if he aggravated his condition. Walking wasn't worth the danger when his future with his family was at stake.

Alfred hummed in his throat. "There is nothing wrong with keeping to your chair if it's necessary. I am quite envious of your leisure, Master Wayne."

He couldn't help but grin. "Another pep talk?"

Alfred nodded. "When life hands you lemons—"

"You make lem-on-ade!" an excited voice piped from behind them. "I love lem-on-ade! Can we? Pleeease? Can we, Daddy? Make lem-on-ade? Puhlease?"

Bruce laughed. Her sudden boisterousness charmed him. "I'll see what we can do when we get home."

Before they left, he glanced back one more time at the pond. As he'd predicted, the sour-faced man was clearly giving the three boys an earful under the tree, their heads hanging low. By chance, he glanced up and saw a leg sticking out of the same tree. Bruce couldn't help but wonder if it belonged to the redhead, who'd possibly scrambled up there to hide in record time.

"Will you tell Mommy?" Cora asked when they pulled into their driveway.

"About the boys?"

"Uh-huh," she said, voice little more than a whisper.

Bruce didn't want to bring the subject up with Selina, a woman who loved him so fiercely she'd internalize the jeers herself. But if was still on Cora's mind, as he knew it would be, the discussion was inevitable.

"We can together," he promised, taking a second look in the side view mirror.

Selina was walking up from the lake, hair blowing in the wind. She'd changed into a sundress that conformed to the curves of her body like no other dress he'd ever seen on her before. As she brushed her hair away from her face, her lips pursed in concentration.

Bruce couldn't look away.

He'd finally been cleared by his doctor to resume sexual intimacy. He hadn't done a single thing about it yet. He was pretty sure he'd go crazy if they waited any longer. He wanted her in his arms, in whatever way was possible now that he was crippled.

She came up to his side of the car as Alfred unfolded his wheelchair. "You look a little lost," she stated, her careful perusal missing nothing.

"You were right," he decided to say.

She glanced at him sharply. "You fell?"

"No. I'm just…having a bad day." Gritting his teeth he moved his left leg over to the side of the seat with his hands. After Alfred removed the chair's armrest, he slid himself over to his seat.

"Bruce," she said.

He sighed, leaning over to adjust a strap on one of his leg braces. "It's my balance, Lina."

"Like Dr. Chase said."

"I thought I was going to fall more than once," he muttered. "No more walking."

"You can't mean that," she argued. "You aren't walking much at all now to begin with. A handful of steps, not even every day. If you stop…"

He looked up at her pointedly. "I do mean it. At least...I mean no more walking anywhere but here. From now on, I'll walk only at the house and if you or Alfred can be right there." He shook his head. "It's not worth it."

"I'm sorry, Bruce," she said after a moment.

He clutched her hand. "Lina, don't be. I guess...I needed this today. To understand exactly how careful I have to be."

Cora bounded out of her seat and grabbed onto Selina's other hand, peering up at her urgently.

"Mommy, Daddy said we could make lem-on-ade," she announced.

Selina glanced down at him. "You do know we're trying to watch her sugar intake."

Bruce grinned sheepishly. "A little won't hurt, will it? Especially since our time was cut short at the park."

Selina's gaze bounced between them indecisively.

Alfred smiled. "Misses Wayne, you may break two hearts if you deny them this simple pleasure on a summer day like today."

She exhaled, hand on her hip. "I think we have just enough lemons for a pitcher," she finally said.

"Yippee," Cora cried.

"I'm giving you half of the muscle relaxer when we get inside, Bruce," Selina noted, walking beside him up the ramp as they made their way towards the house.

He winced. "It'll make me want to sleep." Those always did.

She shrugged with indifference. "That's why you can take just a half dose. You'll miss dinner but then you can help me get Cora ready for bed." She paused. "Most importantly, you'll still be able to meet with Mister Kent."

Cora pulled at her hand, stopping them.

"Sweetie?" Selina asked.

"Does that mean that Daddy can't have lem-on-ade?" Cora whispered, eyes full of sincere sadness. "Because if he doesn't get any, than I don't want lem-on-ade, either, Mommy."

Bruce adored this child even more, just for that.

Selina smiled down at Cora. "We'll just have to make sure we don't drink it all ourselves, won't we."

When they were in the house and his girls were ahead of him, Bruce hung back. Cora's desire to remain with Bruce forgotten, Cora chattered about lemonade.

"Master Wayne?" Alfred nudged him gently.

Bruce kept his eyes locked on the retreating figures, contemplating a phone call to Doctor Chase. "I believe I'll head for my couch now, Alfred."

If Alfred was surprised, he didn't show it.

"I'll have the misses bring you your medicine to the study, then, sir," Alfred said.

"And a pain pill." Bruce looked up at Alfred, who could no doubt read into his forced grin. "But, there's no need to bother her."

Alfred's brows raised. "Of course not. I'll bring it to you right away."

Bruce went to the study and maneuvered onto the couch, gingerly stretching out on his back. While he waited for Alfred, he sent a text to Dr. Chase and almost immediately received a text in return.

He knew what he'd say to Bruce even before looking at it.

Be wise, Bruce. Your legs and back—your body- your wife's sanity—all depend upon it. Always use the chair—except for a brief interval of time when possible. If it's once a week. Or once a month. Or if it's none at all. Use caution, Bruce. If you're unsure, contact me. Keep up with the weights. Your back can handle the little that it does because of your diligence in strength training. Without that…

Dr. Chase didn't finish the thought.

Bruce deleted the entire text.

There was no need for Selina to accidentally come across it.

"I caught Alfred trying to sneak out of the kitchen…with this," a smooth voice said from the doorway. "So this is where you snuck off to as soon as we got in the door?"

Bruce looked up at his wife.

Guiltily.

"Maybe."

She handed him the medication. He took it with the glass of lemonade she'd also brought.

"I'm glad you knew what to do," she said, taking back the glass.

"I have limits, didn't you know?"

She glanced at him, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. "If you're saying things like that…"

"Don't worry about me, Lina," he said warmly, adjusting the pillow under his head.

"If you took it easier, I might not worry so much."

"Done. Oh, don't let me sleep past Cora's bedtime story," he murmured.

Selina knelt beside him, brushing his hair back. "You're the only one she'll listen to read at night."

"Speaking of that, where's Annette?"

"In her room, I think." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "She's been there the entire time you were gone as far as I know."

He locked eyes with her, words passing silently between them.

After tonight, he had no doubt that Cora would be fully theirs.

oOo

"What happened at the park, Alfred?" Selina came up to the man as he finished putting the dinner dishes away.

Bruce had been sleeping for three hours now and she still wasn't exactly sure why they had come home so soon. Even if Bruce hadn't been able to walk, they could have stayed longer. They would have stayed longer. Cora loved the park.

"I don't know what you mean, my dear." He smiled, setting the towel on the counter.

Selina was certain that it'd been Alfred who'd taught Bruce how to evade questions he didn't want to answer.

"Cora isn't herself, and Bruce went straight for the couch," she tried again.

He hesitated. "She's with Annette now, is she?"

"You know she is." Selina said, narrowing her eyes. "You were looking out for Cora, too."

Resignation filled his kindly face. "It's not the same between them anymore, and I fear for the harm it's doing to the heart of the little miss," he observed. "Annette's mind is on...other things."

Selina glanced over her shoulder, half expecting the woman to be listening to them. "You mean, leaving."

"Doing what's best for her little one." Alfred amended, as if that made it all better.

"What happened at the park?" she asked again.

He eyed her carefully. "I believe you'll have to speak with Master Wayne about that."

"I can always ask Cora," Selina deliberated.

Something flashed in his eyes. "I don't recommend approaching her, my dear, not without Master Wayne present."

"I knew something happened." She sighed. "Why should I wait for Bruce, Alfred?"

"Cora witnessed her father being ridiculed, I'm afraid," Alfred said stiffly. "By a group of boys from the orphanage. It was too much for her compassionate heart."

Bruce ridiculed? The thought crushed her.

"What exactly do you mean by ridiculed?" she asked.

"Name calling, laughter...mocking," Alfred said, the clench of his jaw unmistakeable as he wiped the counter.

"I see," she said, making the decision not to press him for more answers.

Watching his practically, wheelchair bound son being taunted had probably devastated the older man.

"And he…" Voice quavering, he stopped and swallowed. "Master Wayne did not…" He paused again, then whispered, "Excuse me, Misses Wayne. It was most...devasta—"

She gently placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "It's okay, Alfred. You don't have to say anything more. I'll ask Bruce for the whole story," she assured him. "He and I will also discuss it with Cora. This has to be upsetting her tonight."

"Let the little miss be with him as much as possible tonight, and he with her," Alfred suggested, eyes shining with tears—and pride. "It would be good for the both of them."

"And Annette?" Selina asked. "She should be spending more time with her, as much as she can."

Alfred went to the cupboard above the fridge and pulled out an envelope. "I found this while putting a few things away." He set it on the counter, the word Alfred scrawled on the front in near-perfect cursive. "I suspect she hid it just today, knowing that I'd find it sometime soon. I may have found it prematurely."

"Did you read it?" she asked, finding the envelope already opened. She absently flipped the seal open then closed.

"I did," he said, smile weak and fading. "She begged me not to find another ex-vigilante and his family to live with—because my 'little miss' loves me with her whole heart. And she'll needs us to love her even more now that …" Taking a breath, he stopped and looked at her. "Indeed, your parenting days are officially beginning, Misses Wayne."

"I wish under different circumstances," she whispered, giving the letter back to Alfred.

"Tomorrow morning may prove difficult, but Cora will be loved by both of her parents," he said urgently.

"She's leaving tonight, then."

"It didn't say for sure, but I suspect very very soon."

"Bruce—all of us—expected this. I'll have Cora wake up Bruce now," she went on quickly, not allowing herself to think why this upset her so much. "It may be the thing she needs after the incident at the park, to distract her."

Bruce, too. Cora usually clung to him like a limpet.

Alfred regarded her with the wisdom of his years. "And what will distract you, Misses Wayne?"

"I don't have the luxury of letting any of this go, even for a minute," she said, deciding to heat a plate of food for Bruce to eat as soon as he awakened. She went to the kitchen, pulling out the plate Alfred had already prepared for him. "I never really thought I'd ever become a mother. And now, I'll be one overnight."

"And what a wonderful mother you'll be," he assured her. "You already are. I couldn't ask for a more perfect match for Master Wayne."

"If you believe I'm a wonderful mother, it's only because of him, Alfred," she clarified, placing the plate in the microwave. She set the time and turned around, arms crossed. "He brings out things in me...I didn't know I had. And things I know I wouldn't have if not for him. It's because of Bruce, Alfred. Not me."

"You could've chosen to abandon Master Wayne a long time ago, Miss Kyle, but you didn't. You could have left after Master Wayne all but lost the ability to walk," Alfred said, pointedly reverting to her maiden name. "But you didn't. You stayed, my dear. You persevered. You loved. You do love. Most ardently," he finished with a fierce tenderness. "I owe you a great deal, for keeping him happy. And now, you are starting a new adventure—together."

She blinked her eyes several times, affected by Alfred's speech more than she cared to admit. "Tell me the truth, Alfred. How is Bruce managing his condition?"

"He perseveres, my dear. Because of you," he replied, turning her words on her. "And that makes me believe," he paused, swallowing, "That as the days pass, as the years bring you children and more memories and moments together, that he will be more whole than if he could walk."

oOo

Bruce awakened to a his name being sung in a sweetly lyrical voice, a small hand tugging at his shirt.

"Da-adyy."

He peeked with one eye at Cora. She peered at him, a fierce look of concentration on her face.

"Wake up!" she exclaimed.

He closed his eye.

"Da-aady," she giggled gleefully, placing her hands on either side of his face. "I saw you! You're not sleeping anymore!"

She smashed his cheeks together.

It hurt a little, but Bruce thought it was the cutest thing she'd ever done. He smiled and brought his arms up around her, tickling her sides.

She broke into a fit of laughter, arms dropping from his face. "Daddy," she cried. "S-s-stop…"

Having mercy on her, he stopped, crushing her to him. Cora sighed contentedly, her head on his chest. They laid there for a moment, both quiet, Bruce stroking her head.

"Daddy," she whispered after awhile. "Mommy told me to wake you up. You're not s'posed to sleep!"

Bruce hummed. "A few more minutes won't hurt," he whispered back.

"I brought a plate of food for you," Selina said, kneeling beside them both, bringing herself eye level with him.

"Thank you." Bruce frowned, slowly recalling that he had a meeting with Supes. "Wait. What time is it?"

"You didn't miss the meeting with Mister Kent. It's only a quarter to seven." She paused, resting her head beside his on the couch. "I'll give her a bath and then you can read to her twice as long tonight."

"Little Bear?" the small voice at his chest asked.

Bruce smiled, tightening his arms around her. "Whatever you want."

"You spoil her," Selina whispered. She stood and pulled Cora off of him.

"That's not spoiling," he argued, sitting up, eventually moving his legs over the side of the couch. It felt good to just sit somewhere that wasn't his wheelchair. "You said something about food?"

"Why don't you tell Alfred good night, sweetie," Selina urged Cora softly, kissing her cheek. "I'll be there in a minute to take you up for your bath."

"Okay, Mommy," she said, dashing off through the door.

"I set your food at your desk," Selina said.

"I think I'll just eat here, if that's alright," he said, rubbing his jaw. The coffee table was just out of his reach, having been moved for the benefit of his wheelchair. He winced, asking anyway. "Could you move the table closer?"

Selina did what he asked, also bringing the food and glass of water to the edge of the table, well within reach.

"Alfred found a letter from Annette a little prematurely," she said before he could take a bite. "A goodbye letter."

Bruce automatically looked at the door, afraid that Cora would race back into the room. "Where is she?" he asked.

"Out of sight and in her room, like she has been," Selina said, tone short, turning to leave.

Bruce sighed. "Lina," he said loudly.

She swiveled on her heel and cocked her head, waiting.

"I love you," he said.

Her eyes filled with emotion, the wordless answer making more of an impact than any reply possibly could. "Come up in about thirty minutes?" she asked. "Annette is making herself quite scarce. I'm afraid...that Cora has noticed."

"I'll be there in twenty," he said.

John came into the study after Bruce finished his meal. "Think she'll skip out tonight?" John asked.

Bruce double checked the tracking on the vehicle he thought Annette would most likely to use to get to town and her rental vehicle.

"She's planning to eat lunch with Selina tomorrow, but already writing her goodbyes," he replied. Not a real answer, but it was the only one he had.

"That would be a low blow," John said, handing him a piece of paper. "She's her friend."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. He hated to think of how hurt she'd be. To lose this friendship would be devastating to her, no matter how much she tried to hide it. "Annette has valid reasons. We can't go blaming her."

"I'll do my best to keep an eye out without looking like I'm hovering," John said.

Bruce put on his glasses and looked down at the paper in his hand. The symbol jumped out at him. "Nightwing?"

John remained quiet.

"I like it." Bruce relaxed into his chair, grinning up at his semi-successor. "I really like it."

"I didn't feel right trying to be 'you.' No one is worthy of that task." John said adamantly.

Bruce frowned. "It's a symbol. You're worthy—"

John shook his head. "It's not the same. I need a slightly different path. You don't mind, do you?" the younger man asked hesitantly.

Bruce smiled. "Not at all. I'm sure Lucius has some new ideas for your suit," he said. "You should contact him at any time."

Relief flooded John's face. "I want it to be similar to yours, but I do have a few ideas of my own."

"I know it's been hard, sticking around, but I think you've done right by staying for more training," Bruce commended.

"When the time comes…" John hedged.

"You'll know." Bruce paused, brows raising. "So will I."

John suddenly sat down, misery etched on his face. "I feel like I'm abandoning you."

Bruce stared hard at him. He would not allow John to feel any guilt about his unfortunate situation. "You're not abandoning me. We have Alfred. Thomas is coming…"

John nodded. "I know, but it's not the same. It's not like it...was."

He looked sorry for having said it, but Bruce had to agree.

"It isn't, but we'll manage," he said. "I have limitations, but there are plenty of people around me who don't."

John didn't look convinced. "And Mister Kent?"

Supes was the last person Bruce wanted to feel like he had to check in on him. He had far better things to do than that. Places to fly to, people to save. Not sit with a man practically living in a chair.

"Good luck tonight," John said, when Bruce didn't answer.

"If she leaves, I want to know immediately," Bruce cautioned. "Even if he's still here."

"I'll let you know as soon as possible."

The matters of his household rounding in on him, he was relieved when it was Cora's bedtime. More relieved when they could all talk about what happened at the park—like a family.

Bruce wheeled to the doorway of the bathroom earlier like he'd promised. Cora was wrapped in the fluffiest pink towel he'd ever seen. She stood in front of Selina, who perched on the edge of the bathtub.

Selina pursed her lips, expression strained as she carefully ran a comb through the five year old's wet hair.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"There were boys at the pond?" she inquired, not looking at him. "Who made fun of you?"

Cora bit her bottom lip. Peering up at him through her lashes as if she'd committed a crime. Such as eating the last cookies from the cookie jar—or spilling the beans.

"It was Alfred who told me, Bruce," Selina said. "Not Cora."

He sighed. He should've known Selina had planned to approach Alfred. "Yes, there were," he affirmed.

"Did they do anything else?"

Cora sniffed, her eyes watering. "They used a stick."

"What? A stick to do what?" Selina's hand stilled. "Bruce?"

"They poked fun at the w-way d-d-daddy w-walked-" Cora's face squashed up as if she were fighting her tears with all her might.

Bruce leaned forward and took Cora's hands in his own, squeezing them. "You have such a tender heart," he murmured. "They didn't hurt me, Cora."

She took a gulp of air and nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on him.

Selina combed through Cora's hair again, jaw clenched.

"Lina," he sighed. "They were just kids."

"Exactly," she gritted. "And they were cruel."

"They were kids—and although their words may have stung, they didn't hurt any of us," he assured her. "Most importantly, we didn't get angry at them or react badly in turn. I was wronged, but it would've been just as wrong for me or any one of us to be mean right back to them. Right, Cora?"

"Yes, Daddy," she whispered.

"They don't know you," Selina pointed out, tugging the comb through Cora's hair.

"No, but I know me. Maybe someday...they could know me. I wouldn't mind talking to them someday, but not about my disability," he mused. "Maybe about more constructive things they could do with their time."

"I married a saint," Selina muttered.

"I'm not a saint," he protested. "This was a good lesson to learn, today, for all of us—kindness."

"Kindness," she said flatly.

But Bruce could've sworn she smiled as she dipped her head and combed through Cora's hair one last time.

"Yes," he murmured, then looking at Cora thoughtfully, added, "Like your mo—Miss Cat—showed me kindness at the clinic."

"At Dr. Leslie's?" Cora snuggled against Selina, tucking her feet under her when she was pulled onto her lap.

"Yes. She took care of me, day after day. Never getting frustrated when I kept messing up things." Bruce looked at Selina with all the love in his heart. "I don't know if I could ever do what she did for me all those weeks."

"Stop. Now you're making me look like a saint," Selina complained.. "All I did was make sure you didn't eat the same meal twice—"

Bruce snorted.

"—and play silly card games with you, hour after hour."

"And day after day," he added.

"I did what any nurse would've done," she said.

"You did more than that," he emphasized, convinced more than ever that Selina Kyle existed in this world to give him life.

"It's time for bed," Selina replied, expertly skirting any responsibility to replying to his statement.

She helped Cora into her nightgown, dried her hair, and instructed her to brush her teeth. By the time Cora climbed up on her bed, Bruce had managed to settle himself into his designated spot for story reading—right beside her.

The lights dimmed and as he turned to the first page of Little Bear, Cora's eyes went to the door. Looking. Searching. Hoping that someone else would come in like she did every night.

Annette's absence was a low punch to the gut.

Cora clung to her blanket, her stuffed goose, and Bruce's left arm.

Selina turned to him, her expression blank.

Bruce cleared his throat and began to read.

oOo

When Clark arrived at the Wayne residence a half hour after Cora usually fell asleep, he did both of the things Bruce had asked him to do.

He used the front door. And he knocked.

Wayne's former butler answered the door. He looked him over, eyes flickering in brief surprise.

Clark glanced down at himself, adjusting his collar, wondering if he should've tucked in his shirt. It had been a little awkward walking into one of the stores in Winterfield in his suit and cape, looking for a quick change of clothing. But it'd be worth the extra effort if Bruce was comfortable in his presence.

"Master Wayne's been expecting you," Alfred announced formally. "I'd offer to take your cape, but I see you, eh, already changed, sir."

"I only thought it fair to level the playing field," Clark explained.

"Master Wayne won't take kindly to pity,"

Luckily, Clark had already considered that. "I feel much more comfortable in a plaid shirt and jeans. It reminds me of...home."

Alfred smiled. "Then I say, sir, you've leveled the playing field quite well."

"If you don't mind me asking, is Annette still living here?" Clark asked quietly.

He wasn't sure, and he wasn't going to assess the occupants of the house now that Wayne had acknowledged him. But he cared enough to be prepared when he talked with him.

"Yes, but after tonight?" The older man smiled sadly. "We can't be sure."

He ushered him in. Clark breathed as normally as possible, shutting out everything except what was in the entryway.

Alfred took notice. "It requires some of your power to block out extra sound?"

"Not much, but yes...it does."

"Are you here for answers? Or will you give Master Wayne the courtesy of telling him some of your secrets for a change?" Alfred queried frankly.

"Both. I'm hoping we can come to a compromise," Clark shared.

Alfred inclined his head towards a closed door. Wayne's office. "Master Wayne is nothing if not agreeable."

Clark gave a short laugh. "Now, we both know that is not the case."

"He had a rough time of it at the park this afternoon," Alfred said, holding the doorknob captive.

That could mean a variety of things, all of which pointed in someway to his disability. "Are you telling me to go easy on him?"

"I'm saying...you better watch out, sir," Alfred warned him, a twinkle in his eye.

He opened the door to Wayne's study.

Clark didn't loiter in the hallway, knowing from his 'visits' that Bruce wouldn't care for any time wasted now that he was here.

Alfred closed the door behind him the minute he stepped all the way into the room. Bruce sat at his desk, head down, writing, wearing a pair of reading glasses Clark had not known he'd had.

Ultimately, not even acknowledging Clark's arrival.

It was a fair response to the part he'd played over the past month. So he said nothing, as well. He walked towards his desk, keeping his distance to respect this mysterious man, the silence between them surprisingly comfortable.

So comfortable, that he decided to sit down without being offered a seat. He inwardly smiled, now spying the small table next to Bruce's, crayons arranged haphazardly on a few pieces of paper. He could imagine the little girl feeling at ease beside this man, whom she considered to be her father.

After he'd thrown her bottle up in the air, he'd disappeared only to catch it for himself. One day, he'd give it to its rightful owner. For now, it remained in his apartment. Hidden. Even from Lois.

Bruce removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. He silently watched Clark, the impassive expression never cracking.

Clark came to the startling realization that he was more nervous about meeting the real Bruce Wayne than Bruce was about meeting him.

This man was cool and guarded, with a set of reserves underneath muscle and wit that could spring at any moment. No wonder he'd been able to fool thousands of people.

Bruce spoke first. "Let me cut to the chase. I believe we're past formalities." He paused, quirking a brow. "At least, you are, Supes."

"My sincerest apologies," Clark said quietly, testing the nickname silently in his mind.

That Bruce Wayne had actually nicknamed him was a step in the right direction. A direction he hoped would be friendship.

"You'll have to answer to me about that eventually, Supes, but there is something far more important on my mind. Selina is my wife, whom I love," Bruce said, eyes like glittering stone. Hard and unyielding, yet passionate. "Nothing, not even her criminal and unsavory past, especially not that, will ever change the love I have for her. I will do everything—absolutely everything—within my power and outside of my power to keep our happiness intact."

The main issue at hand wasn't what he expected. It wasn't that he'd learn their secrets. It was what he was going to do about it.

In particular, what he was going to do about the criminal he married, who by law, should be in prison.

Clark returned his stare. "I have no intention of destroying your life here, Mister Wayne," he said calmly. "In fact—quite the opposite. I'd like us to be friends."

Something shifted in Bruce's eyes. "Is that why you waited?

"Yes," he nodded.

Bruce tilted his head to the side. "You wanted me to come to you first."

"It seemed only fair. I figure out your secret, spy on you...it was the very least I could do." Clark hesitated.

Bruce frowned. "And?"

"You're also a little intimidating. I may have had to work up the nerve to knock on your door tonight."

Bruce blinked at him. "You're joking, right?"

"Mister Wayne-"

"Bruce." Bruce watched him carefully, as if he didn't know what to make of Clark now that he, Superman, practically admitted to being afraid of him, a man in a wheelchair. "Call me...Bruce."

Clark almost smiled in victory, but pulled it back. These people did not make friends easily, or so they said.

They'd made friends with Douglas Fredericks, Annette Maley, Doctor Chase, John Blake, and James Gordon. Not to mention Thomas Elliot. Alfred Pennyworth, Lucius Fox, and Leslie Thompkins went without saying. And soon…Justin Caller.

"Bruce, then," Clark said. Remembering Mister Pennyworth's warning about showing pity, he stood to his full height and stared down at Bruce. "I'm not joking. From my time spent here and also researching what little I could actually find on you—"

"Sorry about that," Bruce interjected, not looking sorry at all. "Clean slate."

"That isn't supposed to even exist."

Bruce shrugged. "I can tell you from experience—Selina, too—that yes, it does."

That explained a lot. Clark wondered if Lois had kept hard copies of her articles on Selina Kyle.

"And you have this...resource," Clark hedged.

"Of course I do," Bruce said evenly. "So it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

"Then it's in the right hands," Clark commented.

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

Clark smiled. "I trust you. Don't know how I couldn't. After a long absence, you returned to the very city that took the lives of your parents to deliver it from ultimate destruction. Every day you'd put on two masks, Wayne's and the Batman's, to do the impossible. You fought criminals mercilessly, but you never killed. You sacrificed your body, your money, your reputation, your entire way of living for the people of Gotham. You saved the city again, at the expense of your life—and lived to go quietly in the night. Without recognition but with a multitude of injuries I can't quite understand. Your back was broken rather horrifically—"

Bruce winced, showing the first true crack in his expression.

"—and I have come to the conclusion it must have occurred between the time you first appeared as Batman after your reclusive years but before you rescued Gotham one last time."

He paused, going over to the wall of shelves behind Bruce. He picked up a photo of Bruce, Selina, and Cora on what must have been Bruce's wedding day, all three of them looking deliriously happy. A happiness they each deserved.

"You showed mercy to a woman I can only assume wronged you somehow in the beginning before she helped you take down Bane," Clark continued softly. "Although you claim you've retired, you saved a family from certain death and allowed them to live here under your protection, no strings attached."

Clark slowed his breathing and replaced the frame. He turned around and stared at Bruce once again.

"I'd be a fool not to trust you," he declared. "A bigger fool not to do whatever it took for us to be friends. I'm a stranger on this earth. I'd like to learn from you. I'd also like...to just talk."

"Talk, you say," Bruce murmured, looking down at his desk.

"Yes," Clark said.

Bruce sighed. "Well, then, Supes…" he began. He pushed away from the desk with his hands, propelling his chair backwards.

He wheeled himself over to where Clark stood. There was no shame or fear in his eyes as he looked up at him. Just acceptance.

It humbled him to know that this man would reveal his weakness—his wheelchair, his legs—in this way just to greet him properly.

Bruce stuck out his hand. "I'm Bruce Wayne. It's an honor to meet you, Supes."

"Clark Kent. It's an honor to have been invited," he said, unbelievably tense after his little speech. And in his elation that this meeting was going so well, he shook Bruce's hand—a little too hard.

A flash of pain crossed Bruce's face. "Ouch," he muttered, pulling his hand away.

Clark winced. "Sorry about that."

Bruce frowned, flexing his fingers. "Was that really necessary? You have one pretty big point over me already—walking. Not to mention the flying thing."

"I-I'm sorry. Very sorry," Clark swiftly apologized, desperate for the man to believe him. "I forgot myself for a moment."

Bruce suddenly grinned. "No problem," he said with a nonchalant air.

A smile grew on Clark's face.

Bruce's smile fell. "But do that again when Selina's around?" he added. "She'll take you down. Powerful hand-shaking skills or not."

"I believe it." Clark chuckled. "You two are well-matched."

Bruce started back for his desk. "She got me out of my house, that's what. Not even Alfred had managed to do that when I'd been a recluse."

"How did she manage to bring you out of hibernation?"

Bruce's hands stilled on the wheels of his chair, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. "She stole my fingerprints and my mother's pearl necklace. The fingerprints that she sold to Daggett that Bane used to bankrupt me. And the pearl necklace that was the last thing I had of my mother's. Not to mention...I was a cranky shut-in and surprised her by shooting an arrow by her face and I think…" Bruce scratched his chin. "I think that's why she kicked my cane, Supes. She was ticked that I'd actually startled her. Oh, and so that she could make a faster getaway with me on the floor."

Clark fell silent. He hadn't expected that. Any of it.

Bruce had married the woman who'd ultimately ruined him?

Had it been anyone other than Bruce—ex-vigilante, playboy, billionaire—he wouldn't have believed him.

"Luckily, I had a tracking device on that necklace," Bruce continued.

Curiosity piqued, Clark watched him even more intently.

"Followed her to a…" Bruce coughed. "Masquerade ball..."

Clark lifted a brow.

Bruce smirked. "...where I danced with her and took back my mother's pearls. She kissed me, the first kiss I'd had in years. It distracted me. Wouldn't you know it, she stole my valet ticket in the process."

Clark gave a short laugh.

"It wasn't funny," Bruce deadpanned. "I was told that my wife took my Lamborghini, when, in fact, a jewel thief had stolen it right from under my nose. To make matters worse, I had to call Alfred to come pick me up. I wasn't in the mood for his English humor that night."

"She outwitted you," Clark said softly. "You. The Batman."

"She did. And I...I loved the concept of that, despite what happened. I loved her spirit. Her ability to throw me off balance, to challenge me." Bruce's eyes saddened. "It didn't end there, and before we get into that…" He threw him a look. "You're not going to spill all of this to your partner, are you? Or does she know about us already?"

Clark sank onto the couch. "No, she doesn't know. Only that I discovered a few secrets. And she decided she's not going to even try to figure out anything else on her own. She'll wait for you to tell her—or never learn it at all."

Bruce's face told Clark that he hardly believed what he was saying.

"She's a reporter. A good one. How is she not going to give into the temptation to look into this?" Bruce asked.

"Because of me," Clark admitted. "I listened too much. She ultimately decided you deserved at least one of us to be in the dark and it might as well be her. Also...Cora. She knows that a child is involved and doesn't want to jeopardize that."

Bruce stared at him.

Clark couldn't believe that he was actually speechless.

"I think, too, that she didn't want to ruin any chance of me possibly having a friend that knew my secret." He laughed ruefully.

"You don't have any other friends who know your secret?" Bruce asked.

"After my father died, it just left my mom and Lois." A lonely existence that ate at Clark.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, understanding in his eyes.

"It was fine, except a few months back when I…" Clark abruptly stopped, realizing he was about to bring up a sensitive topic for the both of them.

How was he to know that this man, who'd suffered so much and was trying to move on, was ready to hear what he really had to say?

Was ready to know that it'd been his sacrifice which had spurred him into action?

Was ready to hear his plea for forgiveness for not stepping out sooner?

He stood to his feet, restless. He walked to the window. Staring out, there was nothing but moonlight and darkness.

"How about if I go first?" the man in question asked quietly behind him.

Clark glanced back, frowning. "I hardly think that's fair to you. Not after all I've done."

Bruce shrugged. "Maybe it isn't. But, you have to know by now that I don't play by the rules."

Indeed, he did.

"Alright," Clark agreed. "But first." Walking over to Bruce, he pulled out the Manila folder from the inside of his shirt pocket and set the folder on the desk.

"What's this?" Bruce asked slowly.

"To apologize." Clark hesitated. "For intruding on your personal life. It's nearly unforgivable."

"I would've done the same thing," Bruce admitted.

Still, Clark wouldn't let that get in the way of him doing the right thing now. "Nonetheless, I won't have a clean conscience unless I apologize and give this to you. Please. Take it."

Bruce's brow furrowed. He gave a short nod and opened the envelope.

He pulled out one photograph, briefly pausing. The lines of his brow deepened as he continued to pull out the rest, setting them out on his desk one by one, side by side. He put on his glasses, inspecting them closer.

"You went to Brazil," he finally remarked, a hint of awe in his voice as his fingers touched one photo in particular.

The very one Clark thought would have the most impact.

In it, Caller sat on a hospital cot, arm along the shoulders of a boy who'd lost part of his leg from the knee down.

"Someone from the hospital had taken these before Caller left," Clark explained. "You chose a good man, Bruce."

"Part of me believes he'll arrive and look at our situation—my disability—and hightail it out of here," Bruce sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I wouldn't blame him if he did. But, seeing this photo—all of the photos—makes me think that this strange arrangement has a chance of actually working. Reese isn't the same person. And here...you can see that in his eyes."

"I have a feeling he won't change his mind." Clark assured him.

"I hope not," Bruce breathed. "We don't want to give this responsibility to just anyone. We can't give it to just anyone." He paused and looked up at him. "Thank you, Clark. Thank you for this. For what it's worth, I don't think there's anything to forgive—but I forgive you."

Clark crossed his arms. "You made me believe that there was," he accused, though for some strange reason he wasn't bothered by it.

Bruce shot him a lazy smile. "I did, didn't I?" He breathed deeply, settling back into his chair in a relaxed, easy posture. "Now, where would you like me to start?"

Clark immediately had an answer. "You can start...from the beginning."

"Right," Bruce said lightly. "Oh, I almost forgot. When we get to the place where you feel comfortable enough to tell me what you really came here to tell me—"

Clark fought a smile. He really shouldn't be surprised that Bruce had figured that out, now, should he?

Bruce smirked. "—feel free to interrupt."

oOo

Selina set the mop aside and dragged her arm across her forehead. She'd washed the kitchen floor, play room, and now the hallway at the back of the house. Killing time. Sleep near impossible.

Over three hours, and Clark was still here. So was Annette.

She crossed her arms, staring out the window into the night. She could barely make out Cora's swing or the trees, the clouds covering the moon. It'd rained a little, and when she'd opened the window, the scent of damp earth almost lured her outside for a short run. But she could barely keep her mind on other things, her daughter and husband too important to push aside.

"She's gone."

Selina breathed sharply and turned around.

John stood, wearing a black leather jacket, solemnly watching her. "Took the jeep, the least of the cars as Bruce expected."

She hugged herself. "Does …" Voice cracking, she cleared her throat. "Does Bruce know?"

He shook his head, adjusting the strap of the bag slung on his shoulder. "I didn't tell him yet. Thought I'd offer that job to you first."

No. She didn't want it. Didn't dare crash the vigilante party.

"Okay," John said, tone soft. "I'll do it. She left you a note on the bar in the kitchen. She left all of us one, even…" He hesitated. "Even Cora. Two for her, actually. One for now. One...for later. When she's older."

Selina couldn't imagine giving Cora either of those letters.

"She's too young," she replied hotly to his face.

John merely returned her biting words with an understanding smile. "I guess since Cora's yours now, you can decide what to do with them. You two will know what's best for her."

"Go tell Bruce. I'll wait here." She rubbed her hands over her arms.

"All this time they've spent talking—it's a good sign," John offered.

Yes, the two do-gooders were most likely chums now. "You better go. You have to follow her."

"If you're okay with me telling them," he said, eyes perusing her a little too close for comfort, as if he knew the thoughts racing through her mind, the turbulent emotions just below the surface. "And if...you're okay."

"So you're my big brother now?" Shocking even herself, she honestly didn't find that idea half-bad. Not that she'd ever tell him that.

He laughed abruptly. "I actually care, you know. Is that too hard to believe?"

She jerked her head towards the hallway to the study. "Go. I'll be fine."

Eventually. Always.

As long as she had Bruce.

John stood still. "You know they wouldn't mind if you interrupt," he said quietly.

"And spoil their fun?" She picked up her mop. "No. I'll be fine."

"Okay." He retreated.

"Wait. John," she said.

He looked back at her. "Yes?"

"Good luck."

oOo

What Bruce enjoyed most about his meeting with Clark was not their shared secrets or natural understanding of each other, but the promise of a friendship.

And despite the fact that he didn't want to take him away from his responsibilities, after he threw the idea out to Clark to return, he was happy to hear he wanted to come back.

"You're welcome at our house," Bruce said honestly. "Anytime."

"Given that my schedule is unpredictable at best and I'd have to drop by unannounced at times?" Clark asked.

"Especially at those times," Bruce affirmed.

"And even though...I failed you," Clark murmured, studying his hands.

"You didn't fail me—or yourself." Bruce thought quickly, wanting him to understand. "You weren't ready, and there wasn't anything wrong with that. Take John. He could go out there, return to Gotham, and fight in some capacity and survive because I have been diligently training him. But I can't let him go back. Not yet. He's a fast learner and only because I've had Selina to help me at times, be my legs, have I been able to continue training him, but he's not ready. What's left for him to learn can make the difference between life and death. And not just for him."

He paused, grabbing his laptop and moving away from his desk.

"Supes, who's to say that bomb wouldn't have gone off if you'd involved yourself? What's done is done. Batman may be 'dead'—" Bruce was honestly touched when Clark winced at that. "—but Gotham endured. And now you've stepped out into the spotlight, at what seems to be the perfect time." Bruce wheeled himself until he was in front of Clark. "And they're ready for you, Kal-El."

Clark stared down at him with a worried expression. "I know it's...morbid, to say the least...but your death was what made me step out."

Bruce grinned in spite of himself. "Don't be ashamed to say that. And don't think it'll hurt my feelings. It doesn't. I've heard far worse things said about me today."

Clark's frown deepened."What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head. "I am humbled you feel the way you do—and I'd be honored if you let me help you in some way in the future. I may be a crippled, old man…" He pressed a few keys on his computer and turned the screen for him. "But I have resources you don't have. Here are...well, just a few.

"A few?" Clark whistled, reading the list of 'resources,' the connections and programs opening up ways that he could assist him. "I knew you had things at your disposal but I never realized…" Clark's voice faded. "This is truly having the world at your fingertips."

"Yes. If there ever comes a time where you'd need my help, I'm more than willing to offer it." Bruce paused. "A partnership."

Clark narrowed his eyes. He closed the computer and gave it back to him. "You're retired," he countered. "You have a family."

Bruce raised his brows. "And here I am training John with all of this right at my fingertips, never having to leave the house. I am grounded. That's given, but you don't have to be alone. I have a different way of doing things, but you may need me."

"We may need each other," Clark said slowly.

Bruce couldn't think of something to add to something so true and succinct, so he held his tongue, waiting for Clark to vocalize what Bruce had instinctively known from the beginning. They stared at each other, the realization growing for both of them that their friendship would be strong and grounded in doing for the greater good—from the very beginning.

"A partnership, then," Clark finally said. He walked to Bruce's desk and scrawled something on a notepad before tearing it off and handing it to Bruce. "My cell phone number. Lois' too, in case you can't reach me."

"Thank you." Bruce memorized the numbers, even Miss Lane's.

She'd interviewed him up close and personal several times over the years. Once on the phone. She hadn't recognized his voice at the masquerade ball, but who was to say she wouldn't apart from that.

"If you call her, she won't ask you questions concerning your identity," Clark promised.

Bruce grimaced. "If she ever hears me over the phone, she may connect the dots. Especially now that she has...a clue."

"She may." Clark nodded. "I guess that's a risk you'll have to take, unless you're willing share your secret to her. She won't say a word, Bruce."

"You know that's not what's holding me back." Bruce stared hard at his new friend.

"Selina," Clark murmured.

Bruce nodded, frustrated he still couldn't exactly gauge Clark's reaction to Selina's actions against him and the subsequent happy life they'd forged together.

"You reformed her," Clark said, sinking to a seat on the couch.

"I opened up a different path for her to follow," Bruce countered. "She took it because there was more to her than the criminal life."

"Lois may have a strong reaction at first, but she'd eventually understand." Clark leaned forward, clasping his hands together, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Like I do."

"Do you?" Bruce asked quietly. "Understand?"

"I observed her for weeks before I gained the knowledge that she'd stolen from you. Lied to you. Betrayed you." Clark peered up at him. "I believe having that knowledge prepared me to understand."

"You are not Lois Lane," Bruce pointed out.

"She would understand, Bruce," Clark repeated. "She's a journalist. She'll look at the facts. That without Selina's help, you would have died and Gotham right along with you."

"I don't know if I could take the chance that she wouldn't understand," Bruce said, allowing himself to be completely honest. "She already has a preconceived view of my wife. A pretty strong one, at that."

"May I make a suggestion?" Clark asked.

"Of course," Bruce said.

"Whenever you're comfortable with the idea, I can bring Lois here. Allow her to first observe Selina with Cora."

That would hardly work. Bruce scowled. "No. She'd recognize her immediately."

"I'm not so sure," Clark said. "You both had different lives in Gotham and now you have a new life within the confines of this very house. It's real, Bruce, but a cover, nonetheless. Your wife doesn't behave like the criminal Lois is familiar with. She's a woman in love with you, with the idea of family with you. I imagine even her countenance has changed. And if she tweaks her appearance a little...say a haircut? Contact lenses?"

"I'll think about it." Bruce refused to agree, refused to budge.

Not until he thought more about the idea and got comfortable exposing Selina's identity to another reporter.

Clark broke into a genuine smile, causing Bruce's scowl to deepen.

"If you don't feel comfortable about Lois knowing, maybe visiting the farm would be a better idea," Clark offered, still smiling.

Now that—Bruce would seriously consider. Bruce could just imagine Cora's delight as soon as she stepped onto a farm. And at this point in time, he trusted Martha Kent over Lois Lane. He also wanted to show Clark he trusted him in some way.

But not quite yet. He didn't like the thought of being completely agreeable upon the first meeting.

"Like I said—I'll think about it," Bruce repeated again.

"That's all I ask," Clark said, smiling wider. "Meanwhile, if there's anything at all that I can do to help you, Bats, call me."

Bats?

Bruce crossed his arms. He rather liked his own nickname. He liked it a lot.

He didn't tell Supes.

Clark's ears pinked. "Uh, is that okay?"

He frowned. "A nickname, huh? Selina would never let me live it down."

Clark still looked scared. Of him. Or of Selina.

He couldn't be sure.

"It's fine," he said, a slow grin rising on his face "I like it."

A knock sounded on the door.

Bruce gripped his wheels. An interruption meant only one thing.

"Come in," he called.

John entered, pausing in the doorway.

His face said it all, but Bruce first took care of formalities. "John, this is Clark Kent. Clark, John Blake."

"It's good to meet you," Clark said, shaking the former detective's hand.

"Likewise." Obviously focused on his upcoming task, John quickly turned to Bruce. "She left a few minutes ago. I found these right on the kitchen counter after she left."

He handed him several envelopes, Annette's handwriting recognizable on the front of each. Bruce rifled through them. One was for him, two for Cora. He slipped his open. He began reading, but was unable to get beyond the first two lines.

Cora belongs with you and Selina, Mr. Wayne. I knew that from the beginning. Love her with all of the love I couldn't give her.

He wished the circumstances were different, to ease Cora's pain, but he now had a daughter. They had a daughter. Overcome with emotion, Bruce almost crumpled the letter in his hand.

"...I mentioned the ones for Cora," John was saying, "But Selina…" He hesitated.

"What about Selina?" Bruce asked, knowing he'd missed something John had said, but not sure what.

John shifted on his feet in what appeared to be nervous energy. "She didn't seem to like the idea of giving them to Cora—ever. If I were you, I'd check on her. She wasn't herself. Even Alfred is staying out of her way. I have everything—the cash, the passports—so I better get going."

"Thank you, John," Bruce said. "Keep me updated."

"I will." John tipped his head in goodbye, walking briskly out the door.

Clark stood to his feet. "I should leave you to your family."

"Supes, you're welcome to stay. I'll be up part of the night, waiting for word from John." Bruce didn't think he'd actually be able to sleep at all.

"I don't want to overstay my first official visit," Clark said decisively. "Especially when your wife needs you. We can talk again soon."

"Tomorrow will be difficult for all of us, but I'm sure we could use a diversion."

"The day after, then," Clark suggested.

Bruce frowned. "Tomorrow or the next day is fine. Thank you—for keeping our secret."

"There's no need to thank me," Clark replied, eyes warm.

He walked out of the study. Following him, the familiar words running through his head, Bruce wheeled out to the hallway.

Kal-El had vanished, the emptiness of the hallway reminding Bruce of his wife's hurt.

He came into the kitchen to find Selina busy with measuring cups, bowls, flour, and a myriad of other ingredients.

"Cookies?" he asked, spying the bag of chocolate chips.

She didn't both to look up. "Cora's favorite," she muttered.

"You don't have to do that tonight, Lina." Bruce could see from his chair that she was too tense to continue, too high strung for this to do any good.

She needed a sparring partner. Her usual sparring partner was gone tonight. Sadly, Bruce couldn't be one.

She paused mid-stir and sent him a glare. "I do," she snapped.

"She likes to help you bake. Maybe you could let this go until tomorrow morning," he suggested.

"But they'd be ready if I made them tonight."

"And she would love to get her hands in the batter," he said.

She sent him another glare. "Maybe I need to make...to…" She squeezed her eyes shut, huffing a sigh. "Bruce, maybe I need this. Did you think of that?"

He wheeled himself as close as he could to her, forced to lean his head back to stare up at her. "She had to leave, Lina. It wasn't you. Or against you. It was for Cora."

"I know," she said tersely, opening her eyes. With a large breath, she viciously beat the batter by hand.

"Do you?" he asked after a moment of watching her kill the mixture.

"Yes," she snapped.

"Can we talk?"

"No," she snapped again. "Just...stop, Bruce."

But he wouldn't. He reached and with surprising ease, grabbed the bowl from her hands and set it on the counter.

She stared numbly at him.

"Sit with me?" he suggested, concerned at what he saw in her eyes. The loss of Annette and gaining a daughter, just like that, all at once. "Please?"

She snapped out of it. "I'd rather bake."

"No, you wouldn't."

"She needs these cookies," she gritted.

"Bake them with her tomorrow. It would help Cora."

They stared silently at each other.

"I'll go for a run, then," she said through clenched teeth.

She turned to go but his hand darted out, catching hers all too quickly. She stopped.

"Sit with me," he suggested again. "Give me five minutes? Then you can-"

He didn't get a chance to finish. Selina collapsed onto his lap. She pressed her face into his chest, her body into him as much as possible. Shoulders quaking but with hardly a single sound escaping while she cried, she clung to his arm, fingers digging into him.

"Sh-she left," she whispered hoarsely, sniffling. "She's gone. Just gone," she said, gulping a breath. "Cora's ours, B-Bruce. She's o-ours. A d-daught-ter."

Bruce did only what he could. He held her.

Time seemed to stop. But Bruce couldn't help but think of the world spinning around them. Annette running. John chasing after her. Cora sleeping, unknowingly headed towards more hurt.

When Selina finally stilled it was with a great sigh. Her breathing evened out, her head like a weight against his chest. Not wanting to disturb her, Bruce didn't dare move a muscle. He sat like this for some time. Losing track of time.

"Master Wayne."

Bruce slowly lifted his head. "Yes, Alfred."

"Would you like to me to assist you in getting the Misses upstairs?"

He nodded, acquiescing to the help he knew he needed. "Get us to the lift, and I can take care of the rest," he murmured, shifting Selina in his arms.

"Very well, sir," Alfred said, grasping the handlebars of Bruce's chair.

"I'll be coming back down, Alfred," he said as they came to the stairs. "But don't stay up on my account."

"I'll not stay up on your account, then, but my bloody own," Alfred unsurprisingly countered. "I'm a guest in this house. An accomplice, if you will, and my safety at stake, as well. I'd like to know what your visitor had to say."

Bruce succumbed to a smile. "You would, would you?"

Alfred stepped aside. "I'll make us some tea."

"Thank you, Alfred."

Once Bruce was at the top of stairs, he shifted Selina in his arms again in order to wheel them to their bedroom.

It didn't take long before he brought them beside their bed. He stared at it for a few seconds, hand repeatedly rubbing his jaw.

When he'd told Alfred he'd take care of the rest, he hadn't quite figured out the challenge of getting her onto the bed.

But one thing was for certain, he wasn't lifting heavier weights just to wheel himself around.

He angled his wheelchair and surprising even himself, lifted her and eased her onto the bed without compromising the state of his legs. Whether it was skill or luck, or both, she never stirred. Bruce located the extra blanket from the closet and spread it over her, taking off her shoes, as well.

He wheeled backwards when he was done to watch her sleep, a sense of accomplishment washing over him.

And more importantly, a love washing over him that was more fervent, more powerful than he'd ever known for his wife. The remarkable woman who was now—a mother.

---

Author's Note: So there's your novella. :D Given all of the content, I am biting at the bit for your thoughts! I am truly appreciative of your comments on the story - they are truly amazing! Please review - those give me much needed inspiration!

Good news! Since I was crazy OCD about a scene with Caller (Reese) before I even got started with THIS chapter, I got a good headstart on the next one. Now that part of it's already written, I may be able to update in a week. If not, it'll be two weeks again. A circus, more Bats and Supes, Bruce/Selina, and one changed Coleman Reese headed your way in the next few updates...and maybe even a twist or two. And I am humbly asking forgiveness because I'll need more time to wrap this story up than I thought...blame Reese, who changed a few things. Until next time!