Wow… Y'all must've really hated that last chapter. It was kind of a dud in its own way. Well, hopefully this will make up for it and you'll do me a huge favor and REVIEW so I actually know what you think. I'm making some turns that everybody may not like but as this isn't written out fully (obviously), things can change with suggestions.

-8-

I could feel myself pulsating as large, warm hands cupped and gripped at tender spots along my body. My eyes were closed, my mouth was open, and he was everywhere. Pulling, begging, groaning against me – with me.

Suddenly, I was pushed away. Dazed, I tried to focus on who was holding me up, on who was touching me.

I should have been frightened by the man with the eternal smile, but I wasn't. I didn't feel anything but heat – his heat – engulfing me, coaxing me. And as he smiled and brought a shining silver blade to my face, I smiled back.

Shooting up with a gasp and a violent shiver, I realize that it was all a dream. The image of the deranged being was replaced with a comforting darkness and I was alone.

For a moment, I could comprehend nothing. My breaths were present so I was in no immediate fear of dying but my dream was reeling inside of my mind. Running forward and backwards, creating an unpleasant ache to resonate around me.

"Oh shit," I huff to myself, closing my eyes and falling back on the small couch I was stationed around. My hands shook, sweat was running down my back, there was a dull pain between my shoulder blades, but my breath was slowly starting to even.

The sudden urge to throw up hit me but a deep breath forced it back down. Another couldn't keep it at bay and I raced to the only trashcan I could remember being in the room.

Spitting a bit of bile from my dry mouth, I moved to sit away from the small bin under my work desk. Unfortunately, I ended up smacking my head against the top and my mind temporarily fogged from the impact. I must not have hit it very hard because the pain was gone after a few seconds and I carefully lifted myself from the floor and into my office chair. It was surprisingly soft and much easier to relax in.

Time passed slowly and in silence as I tried to remember what was going on and what was happening.

I vaguely remember the party that Maegen and Lucas had and I frowned as I thought of the fact that Maegen lied to me. Rationally, I know there's a reason. There's a reason for everything and Maegen wouldn't have kept this a secret unless there was a reason. There just has to be a reason. But emotionally, I'm just pissed.

Bruce Wayne, I remember him. God, he was cute. I should have just stayed with him! He probably could've kept me preoccupied and away from thoughts of Maegen and those stupid, stupid dreams.

Which, by the way, what the fuck. I mean, I haven't had sex in awhile but really, The Joker? He's not really even all that attractive! Well, not really. I just don't understand why it was him. It's not he was even the last person/patient I've seen. I wouldn't be so freaked if my dream was with Harvey Dent Two-Face. He's not nearly as threatening as I thought he'd be! Just a bunch of morality talk and the luck of chance kind of guy. Hell, he could've written a book by now.

Oh, but he's technically dead.

Turning on my desk lamp, I realize how tired I am. My body feels heavy and I feel like I've got a temperature, and a glance to the watch still on my wrist lets me know that it's five in the morning.

"Awesome," I grumble to myself, resisting the urge to wipe at my eyes.

Placing my head on the desk, I began inhaling and exhaling slowly, somehow finding a way to relieve all of my tension. It works for my body but my mind keeps wanting to the most demented places and with more aggression that I intended, I scoot from desk and stand carefully.

With my new found resolve, I called a cab and began to gather my belongings. It's still my day off and no matter what anyone would think, I would still find it utterly pathetic.

Luck seemed to be on my side as I made my way through the front doors of the asylum. Most of the inmates were asleep and visiting hours weren't permitted so early on the weekends, so the madhouse was more peaceful that usual. The occasional guard turned no eye to stare at the odd employee with no like, i.e. me, and I had only waited a few minutes before the cab arrived.

I arrived home a quarter after six and quickly got into the shower. Chances of me being able to go to sleep were slim to impossible but I no longer felt the need to be productive, which in turn means that I will most likely just watch musicals and avoid any human interaction.

In the midst of blow-drying my thick locks, my phone went off. Startled, I quickly moved to grab the small electronic. It was a number I didn't recognize but nonetheless, I turned off the blow-dryer and answered my phone with a wary, but polite, "Hello?"

"Dr. Stark?" a male voice questioned. It was deep, confident, vaguely familiar.

"Yes," I replied tentatively, feeling my eyebrows scrunch together.

"This is Bruce Wayne." I could hear his smile.

My mouth froze and very briefly, there was nothing but white noise in my head. Not because of my lack of recognition in the man but rather because I had no idea why he was calling me. Or how he even got my number.

"How did you get my number?" I blurted breathlessly. He laughed and I blanched. "That's not what I meant – I mean, I do want to know, but – but—" Bruce was kind enough to cut me off.

"Your friend Maegen gave it to me."

Her mere name made me scowl and out of an odd instinct, I sighed, "That bitch." It didn't take me a moment to realize that I had said it out loud and that it could be misinterpreted. "That's not what I meant! I'm okay that you have my number, I just have issues with her right now, and that's just not what I meant and I'm sorry." I was so focused and rushed on apologizing, that I hadn't realized that he was chuckling on the other side.

"Sorry," I apologized again.

"It's all right," he assured.

"So," I began again, feeling awkward, "why are you calling?"

"At the party, you said you didn't know what to think of the two of us talking more—" I felt myself begin to blush, "—but I took the incentive to give this a try. You know, to help you make up your mind."

Smiling, I say, "How very kind of you." Before I lost my nerve, I continued. "Well, what would you like to talk about?"

"Well, I thought we could meet up and have breakfast while we talked."

"So you thought about it?" I teased.

"How could I not?" I'm not going to lie, I grinned at his response.

"Now I can't refuse. Where do you want to eat?"

"I know a diner."

"That's informative," I remark sarcastically, still smiling. "The address would be nice."

"I would give it to you but I think it would be much more chivalrous for me to pick you."A deep sound erupted from my throat, making it known that I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. Of course, he couldn't really tell so I was quick to explain.

"Truthfully, I'm not completely comfortable with the idea that you would know where I live so soon." Sucking my lips in, I waited anxiously for his response. But like the gentleman he was, Bruce didn't keep me waiting.

"Truthfully, that sounds perfectly reasonable."

We talked for a few minutes more and he gave me the street of the diner and we agreed to meet there by nine.

As I continued to dress for the day, I found myself smiling. Instead of my distaste for my friend, it was replaced by thoughts and musing of Bruce. I knew I was forming a crush on the man but really, how couldn't I? It was beautifully distracting.

Finding the diner took less time than I had expected and I settled into a comfortable booth, flipping through the menu. The diner was nice and had an old-timesy feel and it was mostly empty, besides a few men enjoying coffee at the bar. A pretty waitress approached and I ordered coffee, letting her know that I was expecting someone.

At every bell ding, my eyes would lift from my menu to the door. It was ten 'til when the bell went off again and I saw him. Maybe it was my shitty night or the ideas I played with earlier but oh my God – could he be any more attractive?

He was dressed in a wonderfully fitting suit, somehow more refined that last nights, and he was as poised as a professional. He eyes were steady and he smiled as he turned in my direction. I smiled back instinctively but I felt more content to stare.

His mouth opened and he spoke but I didn't register the words. I just watched as his lips and tongue worked to form words and as he took a seat opposite of me, leaning into the cushioning of the seat.

"Sorry," I immediately apologize, closing my eyes briefly and shaking thoughts from my head. "Could you say that again? I spaced."

Smiling, he said, "How's your morning been?"

Giving a noncommittal shrug, I say, "Meh. It's improved drastically in the past minute or so, but it's still far too early to have a definite answer." His smile widened, causing his eyes to crinkle just a bit but it suited him.

We talked and ate and talked. It was surprisingly peaceful and playful. We didn't try for any sort of deep conversation dealing with our past, focusing more on ideas of the present. Every so often, I would let a small story from my schooling come forward but we were both kind and smart enough not to let reminiscing take us away.

"Do you dress like that every day?" I asked, trying to bring about a new topic.

"Like what?" I raised an eyebrow in question.

His playing coy was undeniably cute but would not deter me. "In a suit and tie, all gussied up."

"As a matter of fact, I do." I chuckled under my breath. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just…" I paused, thinking of the best possible wording, "Don't you ever get tired of dressing up?"

Suddenly, his face tensed and fell into a sort of mellow expression, his dark eyes becoming unfocused and yet very intent to staring at the rim of my cup. I suddenly felt bad, as though I had erected some harsh thought in his mind. Of course, I should know by now to be more cautious. Before I had a chance to dispel any harm with humor, he blinked and answered.

"Sometimes."

It was a vague enough answer that even if I hadn't already decided to change topics, I now knew better.

"What made you decide to call me?" I tried instead, purposely catching his eyes.

"I thought it was obvious." The smirk was back and the tension gone. But as it didn't answer my question, I cocked my head and waited.

We shared expectant looks before he said, "Oh, don't make me say it."

"But I don't know what it is!"

"Fine," he relinquished, making me fill with an odd anticipation that I hadn't felt since college. I was almost startled when he continued to look me directly in the eye and speak. "Truthfully, I don't date, but I would like to date you."

It was as though the entire restaurant was listening and waiting for my answer and I felt myself blush. His dark eyes were still on me and I awkwardly licked my lips, pointedly avoiding his gaze, before sputtering, "Okay."

I couldn't help noticing that his eyes weren't nearly as dark as the man from my dreams.