Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Batman universe.
I am folding my few articles when Bruce walks in. I turn around and nod to him, but he doesn't move to the cot. He just leans up against the wall by the door, which he closed.
I ask him if there's anything wrong, and he says nothing is wrong with him, he's perfect. I frown, he's acting weirder than usual but I go back to folding my clothes. I finish and pick them up to put them away in my small dresser. I pass Bruce and steal a side glance at him. He's just watching me.
I put my clothes away and as I go to pass by Bruce again, his hands reach out and snake around my waist. I freeze where I am, my world a spinning top out of which I can make no sense. Bruce pulls me closer, so that I'm pressed up against him. I calculate my chances of escape, but find out I don't really want to.
His hand leaves a trail of fire along my body as he brings it to my face. He brushes my bangs back so that he can see my forehead. Then his hand wraps around my neck and he drops his lips to it, kissing me softly.
A gasp escapes me and I feel his mouth form a smile against my skin. My own hands are clenched by my side and adrenaline is pumping through my entire body, making me shake. Bruce's other hand takes one of mine, pressing it against his chest. I oblige carefully, completely unsure of what I'm doing as I put both my hands on his chest, and then around his neck. A picture runs through my head of me pushing him away, I'm stronger than I think he gives me credit for, that's one plus for being a part of the League of Shadows, I could probably get away from him.
My mind snaps from its reverie as Bruce starts moving his kisses up my neck to my face, cradling it in his hand. He pulls away a fraction from my mouth, and looks into my eyes, which have to be wide and frightened. He must see something he likes there, because he leans in again and presses his lips to mine. Another gasp tries to make itself out, but that parts my lips and only serves to fuel Bruce's fire.
He pulls away once more and whispers in my ear, "I've wanted this for a long time," before kissing me like he's never going to stop. We fall onto my small bed and he's everywhere, everything.
I shoot from my bed in a sweat. I peer into the darkness around me, though I know it's empty, it feels so heavy. My heart is pounding in my chest a million miles a minute and I know my face must be as red as a tomato. I cough to myself and shake my head a few times, trying to get rid of this feeling in me. My breathing is loud and ragged; all the night guards can probably hear it. Everyone can probably hear it.
Finally, I calm down enough to lie back on my bed, crushing the pillow into my face. This can't go on. But what is going on? Now I'm dreaming about him? This is ridiculous. It's probably just because he's the only man that's ever befriended me.
I can count my friends on my hands, and not one of them could I ever fall in … I choke on the thought. This can not happen. I can't let it. I will not let it. I'm strong-willed; I can handle these ridiculous feelings and make them go away.
In the morning when I bring Bruce his breakfast, I am pleasantly surprised how easy it is to hide from him what is happening to me. Everything is normal, he's quiet and brooding as usual, I'm quiet and twitchy.
As we make our way out to start his training, he asks me how my night was.
"Fine," I say quickly, and then curse myself because he caught the speed with which my lie was delivered, "Good. It was good. You?"
"Fine," he responds. I look to see if he's making a joke, but he doesn't seem to be. That was one social skill I never got a handle on, even when I did interact with people every day.
Ducard starts lecturing Bruce on true justice, blah, blah, blah. I block out his voice easily. I don't need to here this "righteous" bullshit again.
A few minutes pass and they're finally ready to start the action. Ducard has introduced Bruce to gauntlets today, and Bruce wears them with ease. They have three hooked scallops protruding from one side. Ducard rushes Bruce and Bruce throws the gauntlets up to catch Ducard's.
This goes on for a bit longer, and then Ducard takes his off. Bruce must think this is a trick, because he doesn't charge immediately. He's smart. When they finally clash, Ducard whips out a sword from God-knows-where and strikes Bruce, who throws up his forearms for protection. The sword clangs against the metal gauntlet, and Bruce finds that it is trapped. He twists the sword out of Ducard's grasp.
Ducard gives him a rare grin. Bruce has done exactly what he should have. They take a short rest, and Bruce calls up to me. I hurry over.
"You took this training?" he asks me between breaths, a strange glint in his eyes.
"Yes," I say cautiously, "Why?"
"Let's see what you got," he challenges. I bark a laugh, but Bruce isn't kidding. I look to Ducard for some help; surely this is improper behavior for a trainee. He actually seems to be considering the idea though. Unbelievable.
"No," I say promptly, shaking my head.
"I haven't seen you fight in quite a while," Ducard says reflectively, "As I recall, you were very good."
"I was," I defend myself.
"Then prove it," Ducard dares me. He has offended me in that special way of his, so I oblige. I take off my jacket, stretching my wings to their full fourteen foot span, and throw it to Bruce, who has taken a seat on the snow to watch us.
"Swords?" Ducard asks.
"No," I reply, "No weapons. That will reveal the true fighter."
I know Ducard doesn't agree with me, we have sparred over this subject many times, but he is too caught up in the fight to argue.
We square off, circling each other. I am the first to attack, because I have no patience for these games. Ducard blocks my punch easily, returning one of his own. I grab his arm as I dodge to the side, and swiftly kick his exposed ribs. This pisses him off and he attacks with more fury. He gets a face shot and a couple of shoulder hits off before I evade him completely. We are separated again.
After circling a few times, I remember the first time I beat him. I wonder if he does. I decide to give it a shot because I'm pretty sure I can win if he doesn't remember.
I charge him, and aim a high kick to his face. Sure enough, he grabs my ankle, and twists it. One of the first things most people learn in any type of martial arts is to make their body spin with whatever appendage is being twisted. The advantage is that you don't break a bone. The disadvantage is that the other person is virtually in control.
But I have an extra advantage in these situations, and that would be two seven foot wings on my back. I push them and my one foot off the ground, so my body moves faster than Ducard can spin me, propelling myself up. As I pass by him, I flail my foot out, catching him square in the nose. He lets go immediately, and grabs his bleeding nose. I stop, assuming the fight is over.
Ducard glares at me, but then sticks out his hand and grins again, twice in one hour? He must be one drugs or something. I shake his hand, but I don't let my guard down. He notices the tension and nods satisfactorily.
Bruce gets up and hands me my coat and pats my back heartily. Ducard departs, telling Bruce that if he wants to lose, he can fight with me. Bruce looks at me, a strange hope in his eyes.
"Don't even think about it. I'd just have to fix you up later," I tease. Bruce doesn't argue. That's one of the things I like about him, or at least why me tolerate him. He doesn't talk much, and argues less.
We make our way back to the monastery and as the doors open for us, Bruce's hand grazes the small of my back, guiding me inside. I jerk away from him, my eyes trained forward. I don't know if he notices or not, because I refuse to look back at him. I depart from him quickly and without a word, because I have to go get his lunch. I bring it back to his room, where he is stretching.
He stands up and takes the food from my hands, but studies me while he eats. I am leaning against the door, devouring an apple. His stare isn't making me uncomfortable, because he is looking at me like a friend, instead of a freak.
We eat in silence, but it is an easy silence, not tense or uncomfortable.
Later that night, Ducard knocks on my door. I open it and a million predicaments fly through my mind, the one foremost is that he's going to attack me for making him bleed earlier.
"You're needed," he says, and then turns to go. The scenes in my head change drastically. Bruce must be in trouble, and lots of it if he can't come here himself. I hurry after Ducard.
We head out to a pavilion jutting out over the mountainside. There is a fire, and a figure huddled around it. It's Bruce. I sigh, he's still alive.
"He fell through the ice," Ducard says, his voice laced with disappointment. Bruce is shivering uncontrollably. He's still wearing his wet clothes.
I haul him to his feet, and start stripping him down. He was wrapped in a blanket, but I need a dry one. Ducard supplies me with one without even being asked. I wrap Bruce it in and start rubbing him down. He is furiously chafing his arms and Ducard tells him to concentrate on his chest. Bruce complies. I rush back inside to get him warm, dry clothes. Arriving back at the pavilion, I find Ducard talking seriously with Bruce so I stop outside the doorway, deciding to wait until Ducard is done speaking to go in.
He is telling him about his wife. I listen intently, because I have never heard this story before, and I forget everything that I was supposed to be doing.
Finally, Ducard notices me, and a look of anger flashes across his face, but then he gestures to Bruce, who is still shivering. I remember myself, and hold Bruce's clothes close to the fire so that when I give them to him they will be nice and toasty.
"Did you enjoy your little story time?" Ducard asks me venomously. I clench my teeth, but don't answer. He shouldn't have been talking so freely if he hadn't wanted me to know. I won't tell him that though, because I don't know what he will do.
"Thank you," Bruce says between chatters as I hand him his warm clothing. I leave, so that he can dress, and I don't go back. I am getting way too attached to Bruce, and I need to find a way to stop it. Now.