Title: Time Will Tell

Author: DC Luder

Summary: After a tragic injury, Bruce must make the long road to recovery with the help of family and friends.

Rating: T

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: this chapter has been revised to make it more awesome-er.

^V^

As I pulled up the drive to Wayne Manor on the first of June, I smiled to see Leslie sitting with Bruce in the expansive side lawn beneath the gigantic willow tree. Driving by, I waved and honked my horn, my smile grew to see Bruce wave back.

Simple enough of a task but mere weeks ago, I had thought it would have been impossible.

After parking in front of the garage, I put my service weapon in the glove compartment and locked the car up. I had been working with vice on some undercover work so thankfully I was already wearing a pair of worn jeans and a fitted gray shirt. Jogging back over to them, I noticed that they were sitting on large red picnic blanket, the scene completed with a picnic basket and a plastic pitcher of lemonade.

In less than three weeks, he had regained an impressive number of skills considering he had started with nothing. The first week after he had come out of the coma, I had spent every day with him, doing what I could to help Leslie and Alfred. Although Leslie and I had to regrettably return to work, I spent every minute I wasn't in Bludhaven or on a Gotham rooftop with him. Leslie came every other day, giving us new activities for Bruce to work on. Although not a rehabilitation specialist herself, she had a number of close associates that were peripherally guiding us, remaining out of the loop as to who the patient was.

Where he was jumping milestones mentally and even verbally, his body had yet to catch up. He still suffered from sluggish reaction times, limb weakness and problems controlling his fine motor skills. Given that the brain damage had taken place in the left lobe, his coordination on his right side lagged behind that of his left. As difficult as it was to watch him struggle with such menial tasks, Leslie kept assuring us that he had lots of ground to cover and that we shouldn't expect him to reach such milestones quite yet.

And even though the Bruce we once knew was gone, there were occasional glimpses into his past. His stubbornness when he didn't want help, the little lip twitch of a smirk and even the penchant he had for ignoring Alfred when he was being pushy. Most likely they were simple coincidences but it still made things seem a little bit brighter.

"Look who's here, Bruce," Leslie said as she pointed at me.

He lifted his eyes to me and a smile fell upon his lips. He loved to smile.

After kissing Leslie's cheek, I knelt beside Bruce, patting his shoulder, "Hey, she working you too hard?"

"No. Just… shapes," he looked at the brightly colored wooden shapes that laid on the blanket. Only three weeks after his mind was erased, he was in kindergarten.

I picked up an orange circle, "Let's see how you are with a pop-quiz."

He frowned in deep thought, then said, "Cir-cle."

"Very good," Leslie commented before she asked, "And the color?"

He showed no sign of hesitation, "Or-ange."

I nodded and returned the block to the blanket. "How much longer do you need him for?"

"A few more minutes. Why?"

I replied, "I have a bit of a surprise for him… for dinner… Figured he needed to get washed up and changed."

"Oh?"

"You're more then welcome to stay and see for yourself."

Shaking her head, Leslie explained, "I only could wrangle a few hours away from the clinic, I have to be back in an hour."

"Suh-prise?"

Bruce looked back and forth between us, intrigued. Although he was fairly good at comprehending what was being said around him, he still needed to focus in order to join the conversation.

I nodded at him, "That's right… Only after you're done with Leslie."

Bruce looked to her, smiling until she smirked and agreed, "All right… One more block and he's all yours." She selected a blue rectangle, "What is the color and shape?"

Bruce's brow contorted and then looked at me, "Purple. Square."

Shaking her head, Leslie replied, "Nope, try again."

"Green."

"No, that was the star," she picked up the green block and showed him it next to the rectangle, "See, it's different, they aren't the same. The star has points, this one doesn't."

Bruce started breathing heavier, his eyes shifting between Leslie and I. After looking down at the shape, he asked "I--- Differ-ent? Square?"

I butted in, "See, this is the square," I picked up the block, "This isn't the same as the one Leslie has. Hers is longer. So it's not a square."

I gave him both of the blocks for him to look at. The square in his right hand almost fell but I caught it for him, putting it back into his hand before helping him grip it. He looked down at both of the shapes and remained silent.

"Bruce," Leslie asked, "What's the color?"

"It... Green?"

"You're close. But we already did green."

He looked at the green star. He nodded at each shape, mouthing words of color and shape. Whenever he was flustered over something he didn't understand, he seemed to either work himself into a fret or simply shut down. Thankfully, he had gone the later route before replying, "Blue reck-angle."

"Blue rectangle, very good," Leslie took the shapes from him, "Great job. Now, you can go with Dick."

As she began to pick up the remaining blocks laid out on the blanket, Bruce repeated, "Blue rec-tangle."

I replied, "Yep, you got it right."

"Blue... Flower?"

"Where? Where did you see a blue flower?" I asked, trying to induce conversation.

"Ta-ble. Fell-ed over..."

"Here at the house?" I asked Leslie.

She shook her head, "Not that I know of. Where was the table, Bruce?"

"Fell-ed over. Wal-ked on... Blue flower." He looked up at us with hope that we understood him, "Fell-ed over… man."

Occasionally, he would ramble what appeared to be meaningless words. Leslie surmised that he was having some memory sparks in the back of his mind that initiated the speech. It actually was a hopeful sign that he has retained his memories in suspended animation and that they simply needed to be brought back to life.

"Hunh.. Have to ask Alfred about hat one," I paused, "Why don't we get you inside out of the sun for a bit, then we can get ready for the surprise."

He nodded to himself and mumbled once more, "Blue."

I brought over Bruce's wheelchair and then braked the wheels. He was doing well with physical activity and rehabilitation, working in the pool every morning with me and then in the afternoon in the gym with either myself, Alfred or Leslie. The weight training regimen he was used to had been cut by more than half so that he could focus on the task rather than the effort. The imbalance he suffered had made walking on his own difficult. Using parallel walking bars, he did very well but when relying on a walker he fumbled.

Letting him grip the chair, I helped him in, being sure he was making an effort to push with his legs. Once he was situated, I helped Leslie fold the blanket, setting it on the picnic basket before handing it to Bruce, "Think you can carry that it in?"

"Yeah."

Leslie followed us in, excusing herself to wash up, leaving us alone in the kitchen. Dinner was to be a fairly big ordeal judging from the guest list and the ingredients Alfred had organized about the kitchen counters.

"Suh-prise?"

"Not yet… The wait will be worth it. Trust me, Bruce."

"Okay."

^V^

After coming inside, Dick helped me to the den where Tim was watching TV. When we entered the room, he looked up, "Barbara called."

I smiled, Barbara was nice, she came up almost every day, spending it with me.

Everyone was nice. Always helping me.

"Say, Bruce, why don't you hang out in here, I'll go call Barbara back."

"Okay," I said, looking at him and then to the TV.

"Nothing good on," Tim smirked as he picked up the remote. I put my hands on the wheels and pushed forward so I was closer to him. "Want help?" he asked.

"I'm.. okay."

"You got it," he smirked. He had a book in his lap and a pen and notebook next to him on the couch. I had lots of books and markers and paper in the study. I could write six letters of the alphabet… but I could say them all, well most of them.

"Homework?"

Tim sighed, "Yeah, physics."

"Fizz… iss."

He repeated it for me, "Physics. About how fast or slow things go, how far… hot and cold and up and down."

I nodded but didn't understand why he needed to read about things being hot and cold.

Dick returned, putting a hand on my shoulder before saying, "Barbara will be here in a half hour… I'm going to take him upstairs, can you help Alfred out."

"I already tried, he kicked me out."

"Well, maybe he'll change his mind when he hears they are on the way…" Dick leaned over so I could see him, "We better get you washed up."

"Dir-ty?" I asked. My clothes weren't that bad.

"It's a special dinner, Bruce, you have to dress up a bit."

"Suh-prise?"

"I can't tell you what it is," he took the handles of the wheel chair and turned me around before pushing me into the hall, "Then it won't be a surprise."

I smiled, "Okay."

We took the elevator up to my bedroom, he let me press the button. I could use the elevator myself but I couldn't get out of it fast enough before the doors closed.

Once in my room, he helped me sit on the bed before he disappeared into my closet,

"Well, what do you want to wear?"

"Pa-jam-as."

"No, it's not bed time yet. How about blue... And a tie... And black slacks," he emerged with an arm full of clothes, holding them up so they looked they were on an real person, "Tres sexy, monsieur."

I curled my brow and he grinned at me, "We'll have that talk someday."

As I started to remove my tee shirt, Dick donned one of the shirts he had found in the closet. It was a bit big for him but he said we had to dress up and he only had a tee-shirt. Dick then went into the bathroom and found a washcloth and a brush while I started to pull off my shirt. Since my one arm was still weak, I got the job about half done before calling out his name.

"Almost..." he sighed as he came over to help me.

He finished pulling it off for me and walked away to throw it in the hamper.

It was then I looked down at my chest, searching for scars. I did it every time I changed or when Dick had me in the pool. Since I couldn't remember, I made up stories as to how I got them.

"What is it Bruce?" Dick asked as he began to untie my sneakers.

"Holes."

"They were, but now they are all better."

I touched one that was redder than the others, just under my last rib, "How… holes?"

"How you got them?" After I nodded, he continued, "Long story. Maybe tomorrow."

"Lots of stor-ies."

"Yeah, we'll get to them. All right, lay back so I can get this grass- stained mess off of you."

I reclined slowly and watched as Dick removed my jeans. He then put my feet into the clean slacks and pulled them up to my knees, "Lean forward, you can stand for this."

I did and then supported myself by keeping my hands on his shoulders as I stood. He pulled them the rest of the way up, zipped them before helping me sit back down, "I forgot a belt."

I didn't like belts. But since I had lost weight after the accident, I needed to wear one almost every day. Alfred said he would fatten me back up.

While I sat, Dick looped the belt around me but didn't buckle it. He then grabbed the little white shirt on the bed. He rolled it up before saying, "Arms out."

I sat there, my eyes transfixed on the window. A car was pulling up and I pointed to it. Dick followed my gaze, "She must have sped… We better hurry, come on, arms out."

I complied and watched as he slipped the shirt through my arms and pulled it down over my head. Before putting on the long sleeved shirt, he took the wash cloth, wiping my face and hands. He finally put the last shirt on, tucking it in before clasping the belt.

Lots of clothes. Must have been a big surprise.

Whilr he ran a brush over my hair, he asked, "Tie or no tie?"

My stomach growled and I answered, "Hun-gry."

^V^

That morning, I had barged into Barbara Gordon's apartment in the Clocktower, my life spinning out of control.

With three little words, she had put it back on its axis: Selina, he's alive.

The day after Dick had appeared on my terrace wearing the Batsuit, I packed my bags, booked a flight to Rome and got the hell out of Gotham. I had wanted no part in pretending Bruce was alive when he wasn't. I had wanted nothing to do with the city if he was no longer in it.

The first three days in Italy, I had balanced my time between crying, breaking things and thinking of returning to my former life as a world-class thief.

But with no one to come after me…

The last few months with Bruce had nearly made me forget that I had essentially given up my criminal career for intermittent vigilantism. I had told myself that it had been the thrill of the fight that had lured me but deep down I had wondered if Batman had hypnotized me, drawing me to his side of breaking the law. When I accused him of as much, he had smirked, "If that was feasible, Arkham would be empty."

"And you'd be bored to tears."

"Precisely," he had replied before kissing me…

We had finally figured things out between us, finding a balance between chaos and normalcy. Whenever we went through more than a bottle of wine, our casual conversations turned serious and he had been quick to divert it back to safe waters. I had no intentions of marrying him, and vice versa. We weren't a normal couple, so there had been no reason to act like one.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

In the midst of my extravagant pity party for one, I had taken ill. Despite my fit form, my back ached when I had finally forced myself to go out and tour the streets. Headaches came from no where as I dodged early summer tourists. And then vicious stomach cramps and nausea had finally forced me to seek medical attention.

The results had me flying back to Gotham on the first ticket available.

Arriving a little after six that morning, riddled with jet lag and worry, I bypassed my penthouse and went directly to the Clocktower. I had become friends of sorts with Barbara over the last few months but hadn't said a word to her since I had found out Bruce had died. Pounding on her door at six-thirty on the morning of June first, she should have whipped open the door and told me to eat kitty litter.

Instead, she had invited me in, concern washing over her tired face.

Although she had lead me into the den, I had no intention of sitting, after all, it would have been difficult to deliver earth shattering news while reclining.

A little more than twelve hours later, I sat in an overstuffed leather chair in the informal den of Wayne Manor, just as if the last three weeks hadn't even happened. As if Bruce hadn't been shot, that Dick hadn't lied to me, that I wasn't seven weeks pregnant…

Upon telling Barbara that morning, I had explained, "I'm the least maternal person in the world… but.. I can't… if this is the only link I have left to him… I don't have a choice… but, I can't do this alone.. I can't…"

Insert Barbara's tearful confession, "Selina, he's alive."

She had spent the next hour catching me up on the truth they had been keeping from everyone. Their public cover was that Bruce Wayne had gone salivating around the world, looking for purpose in his life. His yacht, being manned by a well paid off boat captain and look alike Bruce, was last seen in Maui. I could have cared less about the doings of the faux Bruce Wayne, but rather of the real one.

"Well, it's about time," Tim's voice brought me back from my reverie.

I looked up to see Dick standing in the doorway, wearing a smile along with jeans and a slate blue long sleeved shirt. He found me and nodded curtly before announcing, "Bruce wanted to make his own grand entrance, stubborn old man--ow!" Dick stepped forward and I spotted the edge of a wheelchair that had caught him just under his calves, "We should make you get a license to drive that thing."

He moved out of the doorway and a moment later the entire wheelchair entered the room. Bruce smirked up at Dick and then proceeded to push the wheels in order to approach the rest of us. He was dressed for the occasion, although is frame had thinned, making the tailored clothing hang loose. Barbara had said that physically he was in perfect health but my eyes had a hard time leaving the small round scar on his forehead.

Tim rose to check on Alfred in the kitchen, leaving Cassandra sitting on the couch with Barbara. Rather than take a seat, Dick approached me and when I got to my feet, he offered another nod and a hand on my elbow, "Good to see you."

After I had settled down at the Clocktower that morning, I had caught him up to date with the latest Family development. He had been speechless, as was expected, but when he did find his voice, he had apologized for lying to me.

"You too."

Guiding me over, Dick knelt before Bruce, "Hey… you remember the surprise?"

Watched as Bruce nodded slightly, smirking before echoing, "Suh-prise." He looked from Dick to me, the smirk fading.

"This is your surprise."

I knelt directly in front of Bruce, not surprised when his eyes never left my face. "Hi, Bruce. I'm Selina. I used to be..."

"Green eyes," he whispered.

I smiled brightly, his voice cutting into me like a knife. "Yes, I have green eyes."

He paused then said, "Green... Ov-als."

"He's learning his shapes and colors this week, Selina, forgive him," Dick said suddenly.

"It's okay. What color are your eyes?" I pointed to him.

He blinked and said softly, "Blue."

I nodded.

"You. Icy."

"No, I'm not cold… are you?"

Shaking his head, he repeated himself, "Icy. Meow."

That stole my breath away. As well as everyone else's.

"Icy… Meow."

I looked up as Dick rose to his feet, "Does he mean…" I redirected my gaze to Bruce, "Do you mean Isis?"

He smirked before saying, "Meow."

As Dick swore under his breath, I asked, "Did you tell him about me?"

"No, how could he…" Dick stumbled over his words, "He has what Leslie thinks are memory flashes, something comes to mind and he just says it."

Bruce reached out with his left hand and touched my face, "Icy me-ow."

I had expected to attend dinner at Wayne Manor, to see Bruce's body devoid of his mind.

Seeing him with a smirk on his face, his eyes bright with life and his warm fingers on my cheek… it was hard to believe that he wasn't in there.

^V^

Seeing how painful it was for me to watch Selina talking with Bruce, I could have only imagined what it was like for her.

The last time I had seen them together had been on accident.

I had taken Dad out for dinner in Midtown a little over a month ago for no reason other than just to spend time with him. Although we often shared brunches and lunches, it had been a rare treat to spend the night out on the town. Dropping his name, I had been able to reserve a table at George's, one of the premiere restaurants in Gotham where entrees started at over forty dollars. Thankfully the prices weren't listed on the menus or else Dad would have jumped from his seat and left in search of a diner.

On our way out, I had heard a familiar laugh amidst the crowded tables. Glancing back, I smiled to see Bruce and Selina were at one of the more secluded tables on the elevated floor. She was wearing a gorgeous dress, a purples halter coming from around the back of her neck and then looping down to a low, loose neckline. She had been leaning over, whispering something into Bruce's ear. As my father had stopped to wait for me, I had smiled to see him lean in to kiss her cheek while she bite his ear.

When they had first gotten together, Dick had called it a groovy kind of love.

Immature, he had been spot on.

"Shall we?" Dick asked. When I looked up at him in confusion, he continued, "Dinner hath been served."

Once we were in the dining room, I waited until Dick had set Bruce up at the head of the table before taking a place next to him. Where Bruce remained in his wheel char, I opted to move out of mine and into the dining room chair. Dick left to take his seat next to me and I reached over to help Bruce put a napkin on his lap. He was doing okay with feeding himself as long as he was able to scoop it with a spoon.

Light years from where he had been we it had all started.

"Do anything fun today?" I asked him. It had been the first day I hadn't spent with him since he had first been shot.

Bruce shrugged his left shoulder as he lifted a hand to touch the water glass.

"Thirsty?"

He nodded, "No… straw."

Dick had overheard him and said, "Knew I forgot something, hang on a second, Bruce."

While we waited, I encouraged him to answer my initial question, doing my best not to meet Selina's sad gaze as she watched from across the table.

"Picnic…" he finally answered, "Leslie… for picnic."

"Good day for it… looks like you got some sun," I touched his slightly reddened cheek, "I don't think I was outside for more than ten minutes today."

Bruce then replied, "Come for picnic."

Nodding, I accepted, "Sure… I would love to. Can Selina come?"

Bruce finally looked away from his water and smiled at Selina, "Yes. Picnic. Green."

Dick returned and dropped a white straw into the water glass before raising it up to Bruce's face. When Bruce tried to take the glass away, Dick said, "No, just take a sip."

"No… want hold."

"Bruce, come on…" Dick pushed interfering left hand away, "Just a quick sip, when you drink it down more then you can hold it."

"Hold…" Bruce tried once more. After getting shut down, he dropped his hand and looked at his lap, "No."

It was then I realized he was trying to show off, that he could hold his own glass. "Dick, just help him hold it," I interjected, "Bruce just let Dick help you hold it."

His eyes focused on his water glass, acting as if he hadn't heard me. When Dick went to take Bruce's left hand, he jerked it away, shaking his head, "Not… thir-tee."

As the music of dinnerware clanged and chimed, I kept my eye on Bruce, ready to help if needed. Where we had twice backed potatoes, asparagus in olive oil and lamb chops, Bruce had mashed potatoes, pureed vegetables and lamb. Midway through dinner, Bruce dropped his napkin and after Selina had retrieved it and replaced it for him, Bruce had thanked her softly as a blush crept over him,

No matter how much he had changed his affection for her seemed to have surpassed biological laws. When he had been talking with her in the den saying words that were not random mutterings but specific memories, dancing just out of his reach. If simply seeing the face of a person had brought that much out of him, I could only wonder what the weeks and months to come would bring.

With dinner coming to a close, conversation rose once more, drifting to the "third shift". When Bruce had started picking up vocabulary, we had all agreed that we would not speak of our alter egos by name in front of him. Bruce was generally tired by the time dinner came around and found it difficult to keep up with the conversation. Given that he had barely uttered more than a dozen words through dinner, I surmised that he was ready for bed,

While Tim and Dick debated between whether or not a nameless foe was hiding in Chelsea, I barely heard Bruce say quietly, "Flash-light."

"What, Bruce?" Dick asked, looking over at him.

Bruce's good arm slowly rose and pointed to the window, pointing out what "flashlight" meant.

The Batsignal.

"Dick, the big flashlight," I said and nodded to the window.

He glanced over his shoulder and jerked slightly at the searing white light. Dick stood and wiped his mouth, "Well, I better get some paperwork done tonight."

Cassandra stood silently but Tim rose while saying, "Yeah, I've got quite a bit of homework still... Lots to do."

Bruce kept staring at the sky, his face lost in confusion. When he looked back to see that everyone had left save for myself and Selina, he started breathing heavily, straining his neck to search the room After stealing the croissant from Dick's plate, I tapped Bruce's shoulder, "Here, last one."

He shook his head and returned his gaze to the sky.

Setting the baked good on his plate anyway, my eyes rose to find Selina staring at him, her eyes welling with tears. She was the strongest woman I had ever met, the only raw emotion I had seen her express had been rage and sheer joy. For the second time in twelve hours, I was seeing her cry.

When I said her name, she shook her head, wiping her eyes dry with the corner of her napkin, "It's okay… it's… so surreal…"

Before I could reply, Bruce unlocked the wheelchair and pushed himself away, slowly turning around and heading for the door.

"Bruce?"

He paused, looking down at his lap before saying, "Work... Home... Lots do."

"What do you have to do, you want help?" I offered.

Bruce finally looked up, smiling at Selina before adding, "No… Hold… Suh-prise."

When we were alone, Selina feigned composure after taking a deep breath, "Do you think... He's still in there?"

"Judging by tonight… I wouldn't doubt it… I should have told you about the memory flashes, I don't know why I didn't---," I began apologizing but she held her hand up.

Selina shook her head, "No… it's okay… like he said, it was a surprise… for both of us."

^V^