There were only two rules for Batman.

First, no murders. His duty was to save people of Gotham, not kill them. The second, surprisingly easiest to achieve, was he should protect his Bruce Wayne identity at all costs: he didn't want anyone hurt in his name. There were only a few people he cared about in the world, and he would do anything to keep them safe.

Now, he saw a third one that was there all the time, only he was too blind, too proud to give it a thought.

Batman could never fall in love.

Of course, he'd only cared about that when the danger was way too close. Right now, the danger itself was sleeping peacefully in her bed at Trycorner Yards, as he watched carefully, guarding, like something could happen any minute. He stayed at the room's window, after a brief examination of the place. That part of town was new, full of middle class buildings. The apartment was so common; a wood grain floor, a beige sofa and some stools on the main room, which meant she was used to receiving some people at once. Maybe friends? Her family?

Things Batman didn't have. Nor Bruce, being honest. Maybe the reason she was so captivating for him... life without being a billionaire seemed so cheery.

There were two bedrooms - one to sleep and the other shaped in a home-office, where her school books landed everywhere - a bathroom and a small kitchen. Bruce involuntarily started to count how many flats of this size fitted in his bedroom alone. But in some way, he guessed she wouldn't care if she knew. Her house emanated such a bright aura, so happy. The walls were painted white, except for one, covered mostly with portraits and girly decór. He laughed a little when saw a small adega in the kitchen, imagining her coming home late after work so frustrated she needed to open a bottle.

If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be alive to be crossed.

Just to be sure, he had to check one more time. The shape was there, curled up in a ball because of the intense cold; Bruce was pretty sure that a heater was a cheap thing; even a student could buy. Despite that, her complex seemed serene; now and then smiling like she was having a good dream. Maybe with a hero, saving her in the dark night...?

That couldn't be. He was no hero, nor she knew of his doings. She didn't even know the risk she took by taking a cab that late in the night. She wasn't aware that Batman did not lose the devilish twinkle in the eyes of that driver the second she entered the car, so used he was of paying attention to everyone and everything around him. He could bet the man had done that before.

The girl was pretty, curvy, dressed like she had extended to a nightclub after work. As exhausted as he was, Bruce opted to follow them both, just to be sure the girl would be safe. The car followed it's way, but when they were about to pass through an empty, dark street, the pace slowed. Bruce could see the plan forming in his mind; the rapist locked doors with a smooth movement, but the girl was so tired she had her eyes closed, head resting on the seat-back, and didn't acknowledge that.

Batman didn't want to show up in the middle of the street, but it was too risky to let things go on and get the girl traumatized. He waited for them in the dead end street, hiding in the shadows, knowing the beams would light his figure the moment the cab turned left. He stayed only the necessary time for the criminal to see him, then disappeared again. In fact, he was just hiding behind the firescape stairs, so he was able to see the man's face turn white with terror. The moments after that were filled with nothing but dread.

The girl opened eyes, surprised with the sudden stop, and Batman heard her questioning. Then it happened exactly as he expected: the man gave some excuse about getting the wrong way, and almost couldn't make it back to the main street with his thumbs shaking that much. Even knowing he would leave her alone, Bruce couldn't let her go without being sure of it. He kept following; the cab stopped just enough for her to leave, then raced down the street like his life depended on it.

And it probably did, Bruce thought.

The girl had trouble with the keys, and while she tried all of them, she examined the darkness around her, as if she was suddenly aware of the danger. He had to admit; she was sensing him well, which he found kind of funny. The direction she lingered the most was the exact point he was hiding, although sure she couldn't see. Ready to leave, he just waited for her to be inside.

But then something happened, and he captured her eyes. So brief a second, but enough to send a shiver down his spine. It was so long since he could look at someone into their eyes for that long. Bruce used to avoid doing so, because he was afraid someone would recognize him, or maybe just see any sentiment he didn't want to display. Batman, otherwise, was just an idea, made to become everyone's greatest fear; the few people who had the displeasure of seeing his face were too terrified to keep their eyes open.

He stared; even if she didn't know he was there, Bruce felt connected. Like they shared his secret. But then, so soon, the girl turned the keys, the gate opened, and his moment was gone.

He stayed in the shadows long enough to suddenly understand the loneliness Alfred used to preach about. The emptiness. The girl was gone, and he was all alone in that street, except for the rats. He would be alone in his house, even if his housekeeper were wandering around. He would be alone outside, fighting dor Gotham's future every night. He would be alone in the office the next morning too, when he would have to stay in his desk all day pretending to care about something, with people who pretend to care about him.

He had always known that, but in that moment it hinted like a slap in his face.