When Bruce awoke, he had no idea of the time. He took a few moments to realise he was looking at the caverns of the Batcave rather than his bedroom ceiling, and when he remembered why, he jolted out of his chair.

Selina lay still on the table and, when Bruce approached her, he was relieved to see she was asleep. He reached out and caressed her face, thinking she looked peaceful lying beneath a comforter taken from his bed. The blood bag had been removed, and looking at the screen Bruce was pleased to see that her vitals were stable, her temperature normal and her blood levels restored.

The screen displayed the time of 1.00pm, far later than Bruce had ever slept in. Alfred had been here but hadn't disturbed him; his teacup had been cleared away and, looking back at Selina's face, he could see her face had been cleaned of blood and makeup. He pulled himself away and headed for the lift to take him upstairs to the manor.

He showered, one of the only times he considered himself at peace, and sighed as he ran over the fresh bruises of last night. Some scars had barely healed before they had been torn open again. His kidneys ached, but breathing in the steam of the shower, allowing the water to hammer against his head, his chest, seemed the draw the pain away.

He shaved and dressed, feeling altogether more human, and met Alfred in the hallway in front of the grand staircase.

"Thank goodness you've allowed yourself some rest, for once," was the first thing he said as Bruce finished attaching his cufflinks, "I've taken the liberty of calling Wayne Enterprises to sadly inform them you're riddled with flu."

"Huh, thanks Al," Bruce chuckled, before his face fell stern again, "thank you, for your help last night."

"Well, with what we do, it's all in a day's work," Alfred smiled sadly, "Miss Kyle is strong, I don't think I've ever seen a person survive such blood loss."

"We should move her," Bruce said.

"Agreed," Alfred replied, "She's strong enough now, I'm sure she'd appreciate being brought out of that damp cave."

Bruce scowled playfully, and the two entered the study and headed down the elevator to the Batcave. Still wrapped in a blanket, still sleeping deeply, Bruce lifted Selina from the table and into his arms. She was so exhausted that she didn't stir once as he carried her back to the elevator.

"I'll set to work on cleaning this table, Master Bruce," Alfred called to him, his own modest way of saying he'd let Bruce put Selina to bed alone.

Bruce nodded to him as the elevator doors closed and the mechanisms whirred, rising back up to the first floor. Under the cold spotlight of the lift, the paleness of Selina's skin still concerned Bruce, but when he stepped out into the lobby, he was relieved to spot a faint blush in her cheeks after all.

There were plenty of rooms in Wayne Manor, all of them spotlessly clean with fresh bed linen, most of them having never seen a guest. But Bruce, still unable to keep his eyes off of Selina's face as he climbed the carpeted stairs, was headed for his own room. The thought of Selina nestled in the middle of his king size four poster bed, warm and safe and alive, comforted him greatly.

Bruce entered his bedroom and there it was, drapes drawn back against the posts, the sheets immaculately flat and pristine. When was the last time someone else had been in his bed? Bruce knew it had been a long, long time. And even then, not all of the memories were pleasant.

The bedroom was gently lit from the over clouded afternoon sun filtering through the large windows. The room contained only his bed, a few chairs and small coffee table beneath the window, and a dark fireplace opposite, a TV installed above it. The only personal item to be seen was a framed photo of his parents sitting on the mantelpiece.

Shifting Selina's weight onto one arm, she really did feel so small sometimes, Bruce pulled back the sheets and gently laid her into the middle of his bed. Against the crisp white sheets, her black hair such a stark contrast, Bruce thought she looked just like an angel.

She slept soundly, her lips gently parted, although the sight of her swollen eye and the dark, purple bruises that peppered her body still made Bruce wince. His injuries were his own, he'd counted more bruises and stitches than he cared to remember, but that also meant the pain was his own. Seeing Selina like this was almost too much to bear.

Bruce tucked her in and watched her for a few moments more, feeling calmer with each rise and fall of her chest. Then he settled himself into one of the chairs beside her and waited.

Tonight, Bruce decided, was even colder than the last. Sitting atop a roof, his body basked in the eerie glow of the Ace Chemicals neon sign nearby, he was thankful that the streets appeared relatively empty.

Gordon had called him about some suspicious activity, some people gathered down an alleyway near a well-known nightclub, but by the time Bruce arrived they had dispersed. A few drunk clubbers who stood outside smoking cigarettes spotted him on the roof, asked him to come down, laughed, threw a beer can toward him. He ignored them.

It was most likely a small drug deal. That was the problem with Gordon never getting any rest, it often meant Bruce didn't get any either. At first, at the very beginning, he was reluctant to call him at all, and now he was calling him for anything and everything. And Bruce always went, no matter how trivial.

He had swung by the museum to see if he could get any closer to figuring out what had happened to Selina the other night, but there had been nothing out of the ordinary there either. Selina's blood had been hastily cleaned from the alleyway and the painting had been returned, as if nothing had happened. In fact, Bruce hadn't seen any coverage of the incident in the media either. A set up indeed.

He was just thinking of having a swing around the Ace Chemicals factory when Alfred's comforting voice filled his ear.

"Sorry to disturb you Batman, but Ms Kyle is awake. She's asking for you," he said.

"Okay Alfred," inside his chest, Bruce felt a little flutter of relief, "I'll head back now, it's quiet out here."

"Thank goodness for that," Alfred chuckled, "if only I'd known that's all I need to say to get you home early."

Bruce couldn't help but smile at that. Of course he could admit he had a soft spot for Selina, he had since the first day he had met her. Although that term was stretched rather thin. He was confident it was a lot more than that now.

He went to call the Batmobile but hesitated. Over the years he had gotten better at blocking out the awful things he had seen, from stopping those mental images from ever resurfacing. But there were just some he couldn't shake. His parents, of course, that was the first one. That image, all of those smells and all of those sounds, forever seared into his brain. And now Selina, sprawled on the backseat, eyes lifeless and cold, that dirty-penny blood smell so strong his nostrils stung. That would be with him for a while, too.

So instead he straightened out his cape, eyed the next rooftop, and jumped.