Bruce woke in the late morning, which was rather early for him. He realized that one of the cheery nurses was hammering on his door, before walking in.

"Morning Mr Wayne!" She sang cheerily, pulling the curtains open. "Just checking to see if you were awake."

"Thank you." Bruce wondered if he could sound any less grateful, but the nurse's smile only got wider (making her look rather like one of the Joker's henchmen) and walked out.

"Breakfast ends at eleven!" She reminded him as she reached the door.

Bruce collapsed back onto the bed and turned his head fractionally to see Ace watching him from the couch, only one eye open. If Ace could talk Bruce could only imagine what he'd come out with. 'You . . . bastard.' Seemed to be what he was working on saying right now. Bruce grimaced and sat up.

He dressed completely in black to give off his best [or worst depending on your point of view] 'I'm evil, stay away from me' vibes. He glanced in the mirror and pulled his best scowl. Yes. He was threatening. Yes. He was Batman. Yes. He was the scourge of the underworld. There was nothing he couldn't handle. There was nothing that could handle him.

The restaurant was clearing up when he got to it, most of the residents having ate breakfast. Bruce ordered kippers and sat by himself, concentrating on looking evil for the women that were sitting a few tables down. They kept glancing at him and talking about him, did they think he wouldn't notice? Women!

A harsh cackle interrupted his breakfast and Lois sat down opposite him, taking a slice of bread from his toast rack. Her deeply lined face was creased in laughter.

"Sometimes I wonder how high your IQ really is." She said, smearing honey on the toast. Bruce glowered at her. She snorted. "Look, that's a scary face Bruce. But I'm scarier."

"Always were." He said before he could help himself. Lois smirked and bit into the toast.

"And don't wear black in a nursing home." She said to him, still chewing.

"It's an intimidating colour." He said darkly, as if to prove his point. Lois shook her head.

"No, it's a sexy colour. And these women are swooning over it." She grabbed a passing waiter by the elbow and pulled him to the table. "You. Tea." She snapped. Now it was Bruce's turn to be amused.

"And I thought I was bad-tempered." He said. Lois glared at him.

"Let me tell you what else you're doing wrong," she continued, unfazed. "The whole 'I'm a mean man' schtick - if anything that attracts women, it doesn't repel us." She paused, and upon seeing Bruce's curious expression, continued. "The whole bad boy thing - women are suckers for it, even at eighty. You should know - Batman got tons more women than the more wholesome superheroes. Don't ask me why, maybe we women are retarded. So if you want to repel women, try wearing striped pants, a pastel shirt - paste a goofy smile on your face and be a boy scout."

Bruce was on the brink of laughing. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. When the moment finally passed, he spoke. "So you sound a little bitter about boy scouts." Lois fixed her violet eyes on him coldly.

"Try living with a man who never grows old. Try living with a man who doesn't so much as look at you. Try living with a man who won't even take his shirt off when he's in the same goddamned room." She snapped. "It makes you bad-tempered pretty fast." Bruce raised his head in agreement. He supposed living with that boy scout must be very difficult, if not intolerable..

"I had no idea you were in Gotham." He admitted. It annoyed him.

"I didn't tell you." She replied grumpily. "I didn't want you to know."

"Can I ask why?" Bruce was curious, he had always liked Lois. She glowered at the waiter as he approached with her tea, shaking so much the pot was rattling.

"Because I'm a moany old journalist with a superhero daughter, a superhero ex-husband with irreconcilable differences, and a dog." She admitted, daring him to pity her. Bruce shrugged.

"And I'm a moany old ex-superhero with an errant superhero son, no next of kin, and a dog." He told her. Lois took a sip of her tea.

"At least you were a superhero."

"At least you had a decent relationship." He countered. Lois's eyes sparked with the challenge.

"At least you have a sane dog."

"At least your child still talks to you."

"This could go on all day." Lois told him. "Logic would suggest we stop."

"At least I don't back out of an argument." He was thoroughly enjoying this. Lois was one of the few people with the brains - and the courage - to make interesting conversation with him. She scowled, then turned her attention back to the waiter.

"Hey, where's the sugar?" The young man paled before their eyes.

"Ms. - Ms. Lane, won't your docter be mad? I mean, your blood sugar-"

"And the fake stuff gives cancer to lab rats, and I'm gonna die anyway. So give up the sugar!" he nodded imperceptibly and scurried away. No one denies Homicide Lane and lives to tell about it.

"So how long have you been diabetic?" Bruce asked after a few moments.

"Five years," she answered off-handedly, "been taking insulin shots daily for the last two."

"You should at least combine protein with your carbs," he offered. She glared.

"Not you, too."

"Well if you want to lose a foot, then be my guest," he snapped. "Diabetes can get ugly."

"You don't need to tell me about it," she snapped back. "Don't you think I already know?" She sat back and glowered for a moment, the line between her eyebrows deepening. Finally she sighed. "Sorry."

Bruce shrugged. "Should we take our psychotic dogs for a walk?" Lois smiled slyly.

"Is this a date, Wayne?"

"It's a walk, Lois," he answered flatly. But his eyes were smiling.

***

They made a loop around the golf course and tennis courts. The dogs ran off-leash for a while at the man-made duck pond. This was, of course, against Heritage Pines' rules, but Tinsel simply could not be denied. It was either this small offense or Lois' shoulder socket. Ace eventually got over his fear of Tinsel, and ran after her, though a little guardedly. He didn't much care for her - blissful exuberance?

Ace didn't understand it. The spotted dog must be retarded, because she acts like a puppy - as if she had no knowledge of the bad men, or of hunger, or of pain. The spotted dog cared only of scattering the white ducks, chasing them from the lawn and into the water. The spotted dog was a very curious creature.

Bruce leaned against his cane and looked past the dogs. It had been a long time that he has been outside, during the day, not surrounded by city pollution - with nowhere urgent to go. In fact, he couldn't remember a time like that. It felt so peaceful. This wasn't so bad, Bruce thought. And having Lois here made him feel a little more - sane.

"So what is there to do around here?" Bruce asked.

"Aside from the square dancing classes?" Lois cackled. "Talking about the old days, or gossiping about other people."

"The world shrinks within these walls," he said, looking in the distance. "How do you stand it, then?"

Lois laughed. "It's not like before, when I could jet off to Europe for a few weeks whenever I got bored. I'm old, Wayne," she said with a shrug, "I need to see the docter every week, give myself shots every day. It sucks, but that's life." She glanced at his profile briefly, and decided to ask the question that had been nagging her for the last day or two. "So, what ever happened to your - cat - friend?" His jaw clenched slightly, and he shot her a cold glare. "Hey, thirty years of investigative reporting," she laughed, "it's my habit to ask dangerous questions."

What I wouldn't give for a jumpline and a skyscraper right now, Bats growled. But instead, he was trapped here with Lois, waiting expectantly for his answer. "She escaped," he said gruffly. Escaped? Maybe moved away would be more accurate, Bruce chastised himself. Selina hadn't stolen anything in years, thus there was no one - the Batman or the GCPD - to actually escape from. She just - disappeared - one day.

"You don't know where she went?"

"She doesn't want to be found, so I can't find her," he said. "The last time I heard from her was when I was in the hospital, after the heart attack," he paused, as if still mystified. "She sent me a corny Garfield get-well card."

"Hm," was all Lois said, a tiny smile playing on her lips.