Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gotham City, Three Months Before Zod Arrives on Earth

Bruce Wayne took the last swig of champagne from the glass before placing it on the tray of a fast-moving waiter. He had been doing fairly well, of late, having everyone convinced that he was recovering well from his adopted son taking off with some cash, a motorcycle, and a note saying he was off to find himself. No one suspected that Dick was…gone.

Another waiter came by with a tray of empty glasses showing there was a functioning bar somewhere at this event. Bruce decided to follow the waiter for a moment, in hopes of finding this bar. Charities were always tedious, but ones to show off the results of prior charities were worse. Tonight’s function was to honor four policemen who had used a new skill learned in a training that an event last year had paid for. It was a pilot program Bruce had once been the biggest supporter and champion for. Now, it seemed just another rich man’s folly.

Deciding against adding strong drink to the mix, Bruce opted instead to go hide in the hallway leading to the kitchens and break room. If anyone caught him, he would say he was practicing his speech. He was supposed to help hand over one of the four little plaques, so many would expect him to say a few words. It only took a moment to get far enough that he could hardly hear the music from the party in the banquet hall.

Bruce was about to relax with his back against a wall when he spotted someone. A policeman. No, he corrected himself. A policewoman. Tall at about 5’10 in her bare feet with shoulders slightly broad for a female. Caucasian with dark eyes and dark brown hair in a twist behind her head, fully cheeks and a straight nose. She seemed completely unaware of his presence.

Bruce turned to leave when the woman spoke. Bruce turned back, making to apologize when he was struck by how uncomfortable she looked as she tugged at the high collar of her uniform. According to the medals on her chest, she had to be quite the veteran or an amazing cop, yet the face appeared to belong to someone barely old enough to drink.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just came back for some air.”

She nodded.

“Same here. I don’t mind sharing the hidey-space. Just don’t laugh at me if I talk to myself.”

He nodded, moving to lean his back against the same wall she was using as a balance beam.

“Are you one of the four recipients of the Excellence Award?”

She nodded with a nervous smile.

“When they asked me to join this pilot program, nobody said anything about banquets with the muckety-mucks of Gotham’s upper crust.”

He noted her accent. Southern, with enough draw and a slow enough speed to suggest it was natural rather than put-on.

“Where are you from, Officer O’Hara?”

“Small town called Harpers Falls, originally, in Virginia. Relocated to a Gotham suburb when my mom remarried. What about you? I’d say you’re a native, with that accent.”

Bruce smiled.

“Guilty.”

“You ever live anywhere else?”

“For a time. I traveled a lot when I was younger.”

Officer O’Hearn smiled.

“I used to travel with my mom and my stepdad, when I was a teenager. What brings you to this party? You a muckety-muck?”

He tilted his head, taking in the details of her. Her jaw looked as if it might have been broken once, long ago, and healed slightly askew to give her face a bit more character and leaving her bite slightly crooked when she smiled. Her eyes were an interesting shade, more olive than emerald, and dark enough that her pupils almost disappeared in the poor lighting of their hallway they currently were hiding in.

“What makes you think that, Officer?”

“The suit that cost more than my education, the expensive shoes with real leather souls, or maybe the watch that looks like it cost more than the courthouse.”

“You take such stock of everyone you meet?”

The officer nodded with a sheepish look.

“Have ever since I was a kid. My stepdad trained it, the Academy honed it a bit more. What about you? Duck into a lot of hallways, or were you hoping there’d be some hot chic back here getting some air?”

“I may have thought I could escape prying eyes for a while.”

“Makes sense. I doubt most of the people in that room would come anywhere near where real work was being done. They might have to rub elbows with someone who didn’t make 6 figures last year.”

“I’m sorry my fellow muckety-mucks aren’t very interesting.”

“Well, some of you are a nice surprise, Mister… I didn’t catch your name.”

Bruce heard the music stop and turned his head to listen. Seeing as he was talking to a recipient and he was supposed to hand out one of the awards, he figured they should not stay and talk more.

“Music stopped, they are probably lining everyone up for that award.”

She hissed under her breath, then shoved her cap into place and yanked her gloves onto her hands. Bruce noticed her nails were short, blunt, and uneven enough to suggest she had never had a manicure- or at least had not had one in the past year. With a quick word of thanks, she dashed off to find the other three policemen who would be getting their awards. Bruce smiled. The look on her face when he was one of those handing out the awards, would likely be priceless.

~*~*~*~*~

Bruce walked into the Mansion through the back doors in the kitchen, finding Alfred sitting up in his robe and sleepsuit, a tumbler of scotch in his hand. He had been waiting up for Bruce since Bruce had been 12 and stayed over at a friend’s house only to call at 2AM and want to come home, and being 44 years old, he knew he would still find Alfred waiting for him when he came home late from a party. Or being Batman.

“How did it go?”, asked Alfred.

Bruce moved to the fridge, pulling out the glass pitcher of milk before moving to get a tall glass from the cabinet.

“Not as excruciating as I had expected.”

“Was she pretty?”

Bruce let out a breathy chuckle as he poured.

“It wasn’t like that, Alfred. She was one of the cops, avoiding the crowd to get a breath of air that wasn’t suffocatingly full of perfume, champagne, cigar smoke, and aftershave. I saw her when I went to duck out for a minute myself, and we talked for a moment.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t stand at attention or something of the sort when Bruce Wayne entered the room she was hiding in.”

“She didn’t recognize me. Grew up outside of Gotham and she’s only been on the police force for 5 years. This was her first major event.”

Alfred grinned over at him.

“What was her reaction when you handed her the plaque? I assume you were formally introduced by then?”

Bruce turned, sipping the milk with his hip pressed against the counter. This was, perhaps, the most interested and least depressed he had seen Alfred in over a year.

“They introduced me just as I was called on stage. I gave her partner his plaque, so I caught her quickly doing a double-take that I was the same man she had spoken with in the hall. Afterwards, she found me and told me that she understood why I hadn’t introduced myself in the hall.”

The smile on Alfred’s face was very disconcerting. Bruce knew exactly where the older man’s mind had gone.

“Don’t start, Alfred. She was just a nice woman I talked to for a bit at a charity event. I’ll probably never see her again, unless she works a protection detail, and then it will be just to wave and say ‘hello’ as I get ushered by.”

The butler held up his hands as if to say, ‘Can you blame me for hoping’, before he stood, his back cracking a bit with the motion. He rinsed out his glass before heading to the door.

“I’m surprised you even remembered her then, if it will turn out to be such an inconsequential meeting.”

Bruce finished his milk in one quick gulp, then moved to walk beside Alfred as they headed to their respective rooms.

“What did she look like?”

“Tall, crooked smile, full cheeks, dark hair, green eyes.”

Alfred chuckled with a knowing smile.

“What?”

“Master Bruce, you have always been a hopeless case for a pair of pretty green eyes. Goodnight.”

Bruce shook his head.

“Goodnight, Alfred.”

Walking back to his bedroom, Bruce looked over at the desk where he still kept all his photos. His parents, Alfred, Dick. He moved to roll the desk chair over so he could look out the window as the sky changed colors with the coming dawn. And there he sat, until it was time to dress and put in an appearance at Wayne Enterprises Headquarters, then he could come home to sleep a while. Such were his days, since he had lost Dick. Tonight’s charity was supposed to be a distraction, though it had turned into a pleasant one at the end, thanks to Officer Brid O’Hara.

He shook his head. What he said to Alfred was true, he would never see her again. It was nice, for a moment, to talk with someone who did not know who he was and to banter with them. Although he enjoyed their one dance, after the awards were handed out, when she told him she understood why he would not introduce himself. She had said she imagined always having people fawn over him and pretend to hang onto his every word, would make him feel suffocated after a while. An insightful woman. It was no wonder she was such a decorated policewoman.

Gotham, 2018

Bruce listened as Diana spoke with Steve on the phone, her tone warm as she laughed then informed Steve of the timeline for her arrival home. Despite having entertained his own romantic thoughts about Diana, he was happy for her now, with Steve Trevor. The two had shared something special, before it had been snuffed out so cruelly. And now that he was returned, as ageless as Diana, the woman had every right to try to enjoy as many moments with him as she could and to find all the happiness she could. She had gotten a miracle and Bruce was grateful she had.

When she clicked off the phone, she returned to the War Room of the Hall of Justice, a smile on her face. Bruce looked up from his seat and watched as she slid back into Warrior Princess Mode. Arthur had come up with it when they were planning an assault against a few holdouts from the former King Orm’s soldiers, several months back.

“What?”

Bruce looked up at Diana.

“Pardon?”

“You looked lost in thought. When I asked you a question, you merely hummed at me.”

“What was the question?”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright alone for a couple weeks? Victor is with his father in London, heading back to Paris in the morning, Barry is at that conference the GCPD sent him to. I’ll just be you and Alfred.”

Bruce shrugged.

“It was just he and I for a long time, Diana. We’ll be fine. Go. Be wined and dined by your soldier.”

“Alright, I’m going. I’m going. But Bruce, I mean it, if something big comes up and you need assistance- do not hesitate.”

“I won’t, now stop worrying and get out of here.”

She smiled, shaking her head at him while he finished reading a few things. And that was where he was still sitting when the lights flashed and a small beeping alerted him to an incoming message from Alfred on the overhead speakers.

“Master Bruce?”

“Yes, Alfred?”

“There has been a breach at Arkham and one of the inmates has escaped.”

“Which one?”

“Penguin.”

“I’ll be there in two. Have the Batwing ready.”

“Will do, sir.”

Chapter Text

Metropolis, the day Superman Fought Zod

Brid O’Hara let her head fall back. Any minute the doctor was going to come through the door and tell her that he future with the GCPD was over, or that she just needed a hearing aid kit and could return to modified duty in a few weeks. Hearing loss ran in her family, which was why she Signed so well. However, it was usually the men who were stone deaf by 40, she wasn’t yet 30 and she had failed the hearing test the GCPD did every three years on the whole police force. Today had been the day she got her results from the test she took last week, with some expert audiologist in Metropolis.

Breathe in slow, then out slow. She reminded herself four times more, then growled under her breath. She just wanted to have him come in, tell her that she needed to clean the wax out of her ears, and give her clearance to go back to work. However, a nagging feeling in her gut told her that she was not getting her wish. Not today. She wasn't that lucky.

The door opened to reveal a woman in her early 50s with curly brown hair and soft eyes. Dr.Pendley, she had introduced herself as last week. A Gothamite who moved across the river for Medical school then married her neighbor from the dingy apartment building she lived in, and now they had four adopted daughters in high school and college. She had seemed very nice, and Brid felt comfortable with the woman. Despite being a doctor’s daughter, she often found herself nervous when she had to see a doctor, always worrying in the back of her mind that they would find someone wrong with her. Some heart murmur that could be debilitating if not caught soon enough, a mass in an X-ray. Something.

Dr.Pendley smiled and then moved behind her desk. Now Brid knew the news would be bad. If it were good, Dr.Pendley would have rolled right out with hit. She was about to deliver bad news and wanted the armor of her desk.

“I’m afraid, Ms.O’Hara, that your results are not what you wanted to hear today. Your hearing loss in 20% below threshold in your left ear and 32% in your right. From the looks of things, it will continue to deteriorate at a consistent rate.”

“Doctor, I don’t mean to interrupt, but is there anything that can be done?”

“There is a surgery and of course, there are plenty of options when it comes to hearing aids. They’ve even got rechargeable ones now, no need to change batteries every time you turn around.”

“Surgery?”

“Yes.”, Dr.Pendley nodded, “to stop the progression of your hearing loss. If you, for instance, had the surgery first thing in the morning. You would remain exactly where you are, barring the normal decline most people suffer in old age or any major injuries such as being too close to a jet engine firing up.”

“Will it restore what I’ve lost? Give me normal hearing?”

Dr.Pendley’s face would be terrible at a poker table.

“That’s a no, then. I see.”

“With hearing aid technology, as it stands, you could hear well enough to carry on conversation in a noisy room and be able to tell music is playing in a restaurant. You would not, however, have the required level of hearing for when you are not wearing the hearing aids to meet the standards for the Gotham City Police Department, I’m afraid.”

Brid just nodded. That was it. She would nolonger be a cop. Her career was over. All the work, all the training, for naught.

“Thank you, Dr.Pendley.”, she said as she stood.

Dr.Pendley also stood, her flowery dress hanging up a bit on the one arm of her chair, her soft eyes worried.

“Ms.O’Hara, I know this is a lot, but we still have much to discuss.”

“Not really. I’ll need to schedule the surgery soon, to make sure I don’t end up as deaf as my father was by his 35^th birthday, but it will have to wait until I’ve found a new job and am on the insurance there, as my insurance will be suspended the moment this diagnosis hits the records office, and after the surgery, I will need to get outfitted with hearing aids to help me have almost-normal hearing when I’m out and about.”

“Yes, I suppose you know all of this, due to your family history. I’m sorry, I had forgotten.”

“It’s alright, Doctor. But thank you for taking the time to tell me in person, instead of over the phone.”

“Will you have someone to talk to about this, when you return to Gotham?”

Brid shook her head, gathering her jacket and her satchel she carried in lieu of a purse. It had been a gift from her sister and was covered in iron-offs of all the geeky things Brid liked and some from places she had visited. Sometimes it felt like a blankey or teddy bear a child might carry to fight off bad dreams and homesickness.

Brid left the doctor’s office, after getting the papers she would need for making her surgical appointments and then with the doctor to get situated with her hearing aids, and then she walked out into the sunshine. Oddly, she noticed a good number of people checking their phones and seemingly looking at the same thing. That creepy message from the alien soldier-dude, Zod. Brid ignored them in favor of walking blindly, needing some time to collect her thoughts about this diagnosis, not feeling the need to worry about this Zod-thing when there was nothing she could do about it.

She passed her favorite bakery in Metropolis, having been introduced to it by her stepdad, Robert. Even the smell of the fresh baked pie did nothing to cheer her up. She made up her mind. Once her paperwork was taken care of and she was officially off the Force, she was heading home. A long weekend in her mom and Robert’s guest room would do wonders. Always had in the past. Her mom could fuss over her enough to satisfy a mother’s need of mothering, Robert could take her into the garage to work on their respective motorcycles, her sister might swing by and they could go to the lake to ignore real life for a couple hours while they took pictures and fished.

Just as Brid pulled out her phone to call her mom, she heard a sound she had no reference for. Then it came again, this time with an accompanying shockwave that rippled through the concrete buildings, sidewalks, and roadways. Traffic lights swayed violently and were flung away as if by a terrible wind. Glass shattered, as the shock rippled through buildings reaching far into the sky. All around her, people ran and screamed, some ducked while crying, others seemed to zig-zag in confusion.

Brid jumped into action, moving people away from the buildings and ushering them down Harring street, which lead out to the water, away from the skyscrapers. As long as this wasn’t an earthquake that would cause the water to come up into the city, they would be safer that direction than heading further into the city. She shouted loudly, waving her arms to direct people, using her most Official tone and waving the badge in her wallet to make sure people knew she was an authority figure. No one questioned her.

Walking further up the street and directing more people, Brid noticed a small black Renegade Jeep with a single flashing light at the top, driving in a mad dash. Why the private security vehicles from the pier were coming into the city, she didn’t know. The driver seemed to have NASCAR experience in dodging and weaving, so she left him to it while she continued to shout orders for people to head towards the piers at the other end of Harring.

She continued to help, even as a few police, EMS, and firemen appeared. Once they saw her badge, they did not stop to look close enough to see that it said Gotham rather than Metropolis, they just shoved her into the mess they were all facing. Dust and debris filled the air, the city going eerily silent. Then she heard someone speaking. A woman. Looking up, she saw what appeared to be a teacher leading a group of children with their arms linked, out towards the lights from a fire truck.

“This way! Over here!”, Brid called, then waved for an EMS worker to come.

The teacher, once the children were climbing up into the ambulance, stopped Brid. She looked a bit wild though unharmed, physically.

“Officer, there’s a man, he had his leg trapped under something. A man in a suit was trying to help him, but I don’t think he can lift that stuff off alone.”

“Do you remember how far back you saw them?”

“It was by the Wayne Financial building, I think. We had just gotten out of the museum when… I just led the kids, I figured we could hide in the old train station near the piers.”

“That was good thinking, ma’am. Go on, see to your kids. I’ll go check on the men you mentioned.”

Turning, she guided the woman over to the EMS and ambulance, then looked two see two firemen standing as they checked some gear.

“The teacher says there was a man trapped in some rubble near the Wayne Financial building, and that another man was trying to help. You guys know where that is?”

The taller man nodded.

“Yeah, just down two blocks from here. There’s an international bank, a multi-purpose office building, then Wayne Financial is across from the Museum of Space and Aeronautics.”

“That’s where the teacher and her kids were.”

The shorter fireman threw his gear onto his back and then grabbed a tool that looked enough like a jack for Brid to guess how it worked.

“Alright, let’s go.”, the shorter fireman said.

They moved, one of the firemen handing her a light normally used to direct traffic in the dark. It provided a dim glow in the debris, though she figured people might see it enough to realize help was coming. She walked holding it slightly in front of her, keeping her eyes trained for any sign of a man in a suit or another trapped in rubble. There was so much smoke that her eyes stung and she felt her throat beginning to scratch with every breath.

Then, as they came past a riderless police horse, they saw three men carrying someone. From the looks of it, his legs were a lost cause and he might have been in shock. Two of the other men were holding his arms and upper body between them, the third was using his suit coat to hold the injured man’s legs as he walked behind the other two, the three creating a makeshift gurney with their jackets and arms. The shorter fireman moved to guide the men back, the taller staying close to Brid.

Finally thinking of it, Brid tore a handkerchief from her pocket and tied it around her mouth and nose, to protect herself as much as possible from the debris and smoke. Another man, this one in a hoodie and shorts, wondered past her looking shell shocked. Dazed, with his mouth open and his arms slack at his sides. The taller fireman suggested she lead the guy back and she shook her head.

“You take him, if he falls, I can’t carry him.”

The fireman nodded, then moved to help the poor soul in front of them. Brid moved on, still clutching the traffic light in her left hand, her right wrapping around a small whistle she kept in her satchel. It had been a gift from her mom when she went to college, to supposedly fend off rapists, yet it had thankfully never been used except once to scare off a sickly looking raccoon off her friend’s balcony. If she needed help in this dense fog, the whistle was probably her best chance of alerting anyone to her need.

A couple more blocks and she still had yet to see anyone. Sure, one of the three men who helped the injured man out, could have been the ‘man in a suit’ the teacher was referring to. Brid preferred to double check that no one else was wondering around in this soup. Then she spotted it. A familiar silhouette. Broad shoulders, tall, long legs, big chest, large hands. She would have known that shape anywhere. Bruce had become a fairly good friend to her in the past three months since the charity event where he gave her partner a plaque.

“Bruce!”, she called.

He froze. Then turned. He looked lost. And angry. His eyes burned and not from the smoke or ash in the air. Then Brid noticed someone else, a little girl clinging to Bruce’s right leg. Bruce moved to scoop the girl up into his arms, her little head resting on his shoulder as one large hand rubbed up and down her back in a rhythm every parent knew.

“Brid, what are you doing here? Have they called in Gotham police?”

She shook her head.

“I wasn’t here officially, just had an appointment. Who’s this?”

Bruce’s face went sad.

“Her mom worked there.”, he pointed to a building that appeared to be missing several of the top floors and all of the windows.

Understanding dawned. The girl’s mother was likely dead and Bruce must have found the girl in the debris and smoke.

“Follow me, there are some EMS, Fire, and others down by Henley’s dry cleaning.”

Bruce nodded, walking with the little girl tucked close. He pulled a hanky from his vest pocket and held the girl while Brid gently wrapped the lower half of the little girl’s face, before she tucked back into Bruce’s shoulder, her tiny arms holding him tightly. They found three more people and a roaming Police dog before they got back to the fire truck and ambulance Brid had walked away from earlier.

A female EMS worker tried to take the little girl from Bruce, but the child would not be separated from Bruce. She held his hand tightly in her much smaller one, terrified eyes seeking him out. Brid watched as Bruce crouched to make himself so small he could not have been intimidating to any child, his voice gentle as a mother’s touch as he tried to sooth the little girl. He held her hand, easing her fears over the treatment the EMS worker rendered. Once the girl had been assessed and her scrapes bandaged, she crawled back into Bruce’s arms, her face buried in his neck.

“Do you know someone we can call, sweetie?”, he asked.

The girl looked up at Brid, as she sat behind Bruce.

“Gramma.”

“What’s her name?”

“Gramma.”, the girl repeated.

Brid tried, as Bruce gently rubbed her back with his large hand.

“Do you know her phone number?”

The little girl nodded. Brid pulled out her cell phone.

“Can you tell me her number? We can call her and let her know where you are, and maybe you could talk to her?”

The girl nodded, then quietly offered the number. Clearly someone had coached her to be able to memorize it in case of an emergency. Brid dialed and waited two rings before a woman’s anxious voice came through.

“Hello? LeAnn? Claire?”

The little girl almost leapt over Bruce’s shoulder.

“GRAMMA!”

Brid handed her phone to the little girl.

“Gramma!”

“Claire!”, Bruce could hear the grandmother call back.

Looking over, he saw that Brid looked stricken. No doubt she realized that ‘Grandma’ was likely the mother of the little girl’s mother, and the way she would learn of her daughter’s death would be this phone call with her granddaughter. The little girl was continuing to tell her grandma that she was alright, now sitting inside the back of the EMS truck. But Brid was walking around the side of the truck, seemingly taking in all the destruction. Bruce looked at his own phone. He would need to make some phone calls soon.

“Bruce?”

He looked up to find Brid looking at his hand.

“What did you do?”

“There was a man under a beam.”

“Did you help lift the beam up?”

He nodded, not wanting to tell her that he lifted it alone. Most men who wore nice suits and worked behind a desk, didn’t have the physical strength to lift a beam of that heft. Brid called for a kit from the EMS truck and began working to clean and bandage Bruce’s hand. He had not noticed the injury until she began to clean it.

“Thanks.”, he said.

Brid appeared not to hear him, as often seemed to happen. Bruce did not try again. His mind wandered over all that would need to be done, for the friends and employees who had been in the Wayne Financial building. For the families who had lost loved ones today. And for the alien who brought this fight here.

Gotham City, Present Day

Bruce shook his head as he saw the footage on the police camera he had hacked into. The Penguin was back and he was heading into a familiar high-end nightclub, where only the wealthiest of Gotham’s citizens, could afford the drinks or the clothes required by the unofficial dress code. A club where a friend worked. Bruce only hoped she wasn’t working tonight.

He moved over to get into the Batsuit, while Alfred kept an eye on the feed. Penguin had his regular henchman of late, Mr.Lyons, as well as a team of 8 men all converging on Club Gotham. Not the most original name or even all that glamorous from the outside, but inside the place reeked of old money and fancy booze. Back in the day, it would also have smelled of more than a few illegal substances, however the new owners had taken a dim view of breaking the law.

"I've checked, sir, and Miss O'Hara is working tonight."

"Great.", Bruce growled under his breath as he attached the cape and moved towards the Batmobile.

Alfred walked behind him, handing him tools as they went. This would be one of the times Alfred knew not to mention one word about Bruce's late night activities, because Bruce was going to protect someone they cared about. Once Bruce was in the vehicle, Alfred stopped beside it, an oddly sad look on his face. Bruce wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Bring her home, Bruce."

"I'm sure she'll be fine."

Alfred attempted a smile with his nod as he stepped back. Punching it harder than he really needed to, Bruce gunned the engine to a mighty roar and took off for Club Gotham. Penguin had a real serious hate-on for one of the club's most frequent customers, former Mayor James Del Marr. Del Marr had come from a well-known, moderately well off family, winning a slot at a prestigious university where he met and married an heiress. Between his connections and her funds, it had been no surprise the man had done so well in politics. Ten years ago, when Del Marr had been Mayor, he had testified against Penguin in the trial that helped put Penguin back in Arkham Asylum.

Bruce was halfway to Gotham when he heard Alfred's voice on the radio.

"Police en route to Club Gotham, SWAT has been called. Someone alerted them just as the doors were broken. Caller was female, used police terminology."

"Brid."

"Most likely."

Bruce just gunned the engine a little harder, doing his best to arrive before the police complicated matters further. Brid had enough sense not to engage Penguin directly, though he doubted she would escape the building if there was even one person- client or coworker- still left inside with the Penguin and his goons. You could remove the woman from the police force but you could not remove the oath to protect and serve from the woman.

~*~*~*~*~

Brid checked her revolver. Six rounds, plus twelve more in her jacket, six in the revolver at her ankle, plus her knife. Thankfully, she only had to hold out until help arrived. She was not going to fight the whole gang and bring them to justice. That was the job of SWAT. Or Batman. Brid was pretty sure that he was on his way, given who had just charged into Club Gotham with his favorite henchman and eight flunkies. Penguin had not yet gotten back to where she, the former mayor, and the mayor's personal bodyguard, were all hiding. Del Marr wasn't a bad guy and his bodyguard, Omar, was a really nice man. Brid wanted to make sure nothing happened to either of them.

"Good thinking, O'Hara. Having us come back here."

She gave a nod. They were in an employees-only bathroom in the back. There was no way they could get to the main exit, the back exit had been overrun by escaping employees, and there was no safe place to hide in the middle of the room. Brid had figured the employees-only ladies room, would be the last place anyone would check for Del Marr. She had Omar stationed by the small window that came out three stories above the dumpsters while Brid stood just inside the doorway where a shallow wall did more to direct traffic than to hold up the ceiling. They had tucked Del Marr into the stall closest to the doors as that was the one hardest to hit if someone just put their arm through the door and started shooting.

"There a plan?", Omar asked.

"Yeah. We wait till the cavalry shows up. SWAT will probably be here in a couple more minutes.", she whispered.

Omar nodded. Del Marr, however, seemed unsure.

"Then what?"

"We sit tight. SWAT will clear the place, and they'll find us when they get to that. Then they'll escort us out."

Del Marr started to say something, but Brid cut him off with a hissed sound, then listened. Tapping her ear, she turned her hearing aid up a notch. Someone was walking down the hall. Someone had dropped drinkwear and the glass crunched under the booted feet of whomever was walking. It was not the walk of a SWAT team member. Too slow for most cops. Military training, possibly. Then nothing. Brid held her breath, attempting to hear even the slightest change outside the door. Suddenly, something slammed against the door, knocking it from the frame. A large chair and the door lay on the floor before a large man rolled in and began firing. Brid grabbed the edge of the chair and brought it down on the man, knocking him to the side. Omar moved to cover the door as Brid slammed her elbow across the henchman's face, then came down against with the butt of her gun. He was out cold on the floor.

"Good job.", Omar whispered.

"Thanks.", Brid panted out before pulling the henchman's leather belt off and used it to hogtie the man up with his hands and ankles behind his back, his face down on the bathroom floor. Next, she handed his first gun to Omar and took the second to slip into the back of her pants. 

"What now?", Del Marr asked.

"We wait for SWAT."

"And if his friends come?"

"We shoot them."

Outside, they could hear Penguin shouting, followed by loads of shooting. Two more henchmen came running down the hall, and Omar shot each in their legs, leaving them screaming in the hallway. Trading with Brid, Omar worked to calm his now-panicking boss and keeping an eye on the leading henchman who lay hogtied on the floor while Brid made sure no one got past the door of the ladies' room. When it got quiet again, Brid motioned to Omar to let him know she was going to check the narrow hallway and would be back in a minute. He nodded, moving to take up the spot just inside the door, with Del Marr right behind him.

Brid grabbed a chunk of the broken chair and kept it in her right hand while she kept her gun in her left. It never hurt to have a little extra something to defend yourself with in a narrow space. It was too quiet, eerie even. Brid hated silence. Then, a shape moved in the darkened break room. Brid focused. Then she smiled. She knew that shape.

"What brings a Caped Crusader to a place like this?", she teased as he stepped out.

"Penguins."

She nodded, dropping her gun and stick. Batman stepped closer and she smiled in relief. He wasn't SWAT but she trusted him more than she had ever trusted them back when she still wore a badge. He leaned close, his voice low and not so unrecognizable through the modulator.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

He reached, his large, gloved hand pulling up her left hand. There was a small cut on the back to show where she busted her knuckles when she was wrestling with the henchman.

"I had an encounter with one of the henchman. Del Marr and his bodyguard, Omar, are back in the employees' ladies' room with the main lackey all tied up and unconscious."

He smiled that one-quarter smile she would always associate with Bruce.

"Where's Penguin?"

"Tied up at the front door."

"Good.", she pronounced.

They heard the police busting through a door, calling out their presence.

"I know. See you later.", Brid said as she turned and walked back towards the bathroom to check on Omar and Del Marr.

He would be gone if she turned around, so she didn't bother. Batman was constantly disappearing like a puff of smoke in a stiff breeze. It was practically a trademark move. She had a half-crazed former mayor and a steady bodyguard to see to, then she would doubtlessly end up spending hours at the police station, retelling everything. Thankfully, where she and Batman had talked, no cameras would have caught it, so she could conveniently leave out the whole conversation with Gotham's masked protector. And knowing Omar, he had stuck so close to his employer that he never had any idea Batman had been there.

~*~*~*~

Brid was so tired, she was sure she could have leaned against a wall and slept if she gave into the urge. She had spent the entire remainder of the night and then hours of the morning, telling and re-telling her story to every cop, detective, and FBI agent who had been presented to her with their own slant on the same four questions. Then she had been permitted to return home for about four hours when she was called and asked to come back to tell her story again, in person, to an assistant DA. That had been almost four hours ago and the city had barely an hour of sunshine left. The orange-tinted skies were lovely through the breaks in the parking garage levels as Brid made her way up to where her motorcycle awaited her.

When she was cast out of the GCPD due to her hearing impairment, she was permitted to retain a card that allowed her to attend events and get free parking, designated for cops and retired police officers. She rarely bothered to carry it except if she had business that required her to park at or near the main police station building. The card allowed her to park for free in their garage, which was a perk she had missed. Sliding the card out in preparation for having to slide it through the machine on her way out, Brid caught a familiar shape in her peripheral. Bruce Wayne, casually leaning against the wall in front of her bike, his suit jacket slung over his forearm, tie loose and collar undone. He was even in her favorite blue suit. She swore he wore it every time he wanted something from her and he did it because he was aware she loved that suit. The true-blue color did fantastic things for his complexion and the pale grey-blue shirt he wore with it was a nice compliment to his dark hair and eyes.

That one-quarter smile appeared as he made eye contact with her and Brid gave him a slightly bigger, though more tired version in response. Instantly, Bruce was pushing himself off the wall and moving to close the distance between them. Sometimes, Brid swore he had some kind of super speed. He reached for her bandaged hand, his eyes concerned. 

"Hello Ms.O'Hara."

"Somehow, of all the weird things that have happened to me in the past 24 hours, this seems to be the weirdest. What's up?"

"Can't I just have been in the neighborhood?"

"And decided to wait who-knows-how-long for me to eventually be released from the bowels of the police station?"

"I wanted to check and make sure you were alright."

"I'm good. They are giving me an award."

"I heard."

She grinned.

"Of course you did."

"I keep apprised."

"All I did was knock a guy out. Batman did all the heavy-lifting."

Bruce inclined his head with a slight, impish grin as he stepped into her personal space.

"Well, he had the advantages of body armor, gadgets, and being in the dark. You were protecting a guy with only a little revolver and a semi-retired bodyguard. Not to mention, you protected the former Mayor when everything went to hell."

"Ah. Hm, yeah I still don't think that rises to the occasion of a plaque."

"Want to get something to eat?"

"Sure. Wanna go back to Olympia's, or are you feeling more like some Mexican?"

"Alfred made pasta with his homemade marinara."

Brid shook her head. Her Achilles heel was Alfred's homemade marinara. And he, as well as Bruce, knew it.

"That is not fighting fair."

Bruce leaned closer, almost as if to whisper a secret.

"To quote a young woman I know, 'That is why I always win'."

That earned a big laugh from Brid as she walked past Bruce, over to her motorcycle. Her 2010 Ducati Black was her prized possession. Swinging a leg over, she settled and then patted the area behind her own bum.

"Well come on then, that past ain't gonna eat itself."

Bruce didn't have to be asked twice. He had been quite concerned about Brid and wanted to check on her personally. When Alfred announced what he was cooking for dinner, Bruce quickly deduced he had not been the only concerned party at Wayne House. Now, holding onto Brid's midsection as she carefully moved through the parking garage, Bruce was even more glad he had decided to come check on her personally. She had appeared so tired as she made her way up to her bike and her dark circles almost did look like true bruises.

When he had seen the blood on her hand in the hall last night, his heart had seized up in a way he did not care for. It was not an unfamiliar feeling and he recognized it for what it was. At the moment, however, he was not ready to examine that. Instead he was going to put it in a box for Later, and he intended to enjoy an evening off with Brid and Alfred, eating good food back at the house, and hopefully Gotham would permit him the full night off so he could sit up and talk rather than having to leave Alfred to entertain Brid while Bruce fought off the horde.

For the past couple months, Alfred had been making some noise about Bruce's future, if he should continue to be Batman once the League was a bit more shored up, and what Bruce might do with a 'retirement' from protecting Gotham. Bruce would be glad of having Brid at the house this evening, not just for the warmth of her company, as she was great at distracting Alfred from his usual worrying. The two would always get lost in some conversation about history, some TV series that had been unjustly cancelled, or a book one of them had just finished. 

Brid pulled out onto the country road leading from Gotham city proper, out to Wayne Manor and Wayne House. Once she was outside the city limits and to the area where the police never bothered to patrol, she cranked up her bike a bit to go a little above the speed limit. And she continued to speed a bit till they reached the curvy, steep part of the trip, where she slowed to a gentle roll. In another time and place, Bruce imagined them going at this pace and checking out the sunset over the ocean or some such thing. Tonight, the sun had already set and they were in the odd, blue-tinted twilight hour, making their way to dinner with Alfred rather than a romantic spot on the beach.

He shook his head to clear it out. Lately, it seemed he had been having those kinds of thoughts a lot, in regards to Brid. She had yet to notice anything odd enough in his behavior to question it. Alfred had not refrained. Bruce was just going to ignore it. He was too old and too damaged for such a life with someone as young and untarnished as Brid. Tonight, he would enjoy the closeness for a moment and he would enjoy the dinner they would share with Alfred, and he would fuss over her to stay and sleep in his guest room rather than driving home in the dark on her bike. And he would pretend he saw her only as a very good friend, and that he was alright with them being just-friends. And when Alfred confronted him about it again, sometime tomorrow, Bruce would slip to the cave.

"We're almost home.", Brid called over the roar of her bike.

Bruce smiled.

"Good.", he called back.

Chapter Text

Harpers Falls, Virginia – One Week Post-Zod

Brid pulled up to her mom and step-dad’s house to see them both already waiting on the front porch. Finding her mom out on the front porch swing was normal and Brid had totally expected it. Robert, however, she had expected to be out back working on something. Robert came down first, her mom busy putting something on a table before she rushed after Robert to greet Brid.

“You’re home!”, her mom greeted as Brid slung her leg back over the bike to stand beside it.

Her mom crushed her in a fierce mama-bear hug.

“Hi, mom.”

“I see you’ve taken care of her.”, Robert teased as he ran a hand gently over the Ducati.

“Well, I couldn’t go wrap her around something after that speech you gave me when I bought her off you.”

Miriam shook her head at them.

“I swear, the two of you. When I told Robert there was only one bike per household, I didn’t expect him to sell you his old one so he could buy the new one.”

“Don’t worry, mom.”, Brid said as she leaned to kiss her mom on the cheek, “I only pull the throttle out on rainy days, on gravel roads.”

That earned her a playful swat before Robert made for the small bag Brid had tethered to the bike, neither of them commenting about taking the backpack she wore. Minutes later, after a tour of the renovations and some updates on people she barely remembered or had no recollection of at all, Miriam brought Brid up to the guest room. Technically, Brid and her brother were the only people who ever stayed in this room, yet she still called it the ‘guest’ room. The bed was as comfortable as she remembered when she dropped backward onto it.

“You always did that. Every time we checked into a hotel, every time we went to your grandmother’s house, and every time we came back from a trip.”

“Well, grandma’s guest bed had that wrought-iron frame and the old springy mattress. Firm and noisy.”

“I think you were the only person who ever enjoyed sleeping in it.”

Brid smiled even as she heard her mom stop moving around the room.

“So?”, her mom started as she gently sat on the edge of the bed next to Brid’s ankle.

“Needle. Thread.”

She could almost hear the eyeroll her mom always did at that joke.

“I mean it.”

“I’m fine, mom. I promise.”

“You got kicked off the Force because of your dad’s defunct genes and on the day you learned you were rapidly losing your hearing, you ended up in the middle of an aborted alien invasion. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for you to be Fine.”

“Then I’m fit as a fiddle.”

“Brid Rosalynn O’Hara.”

“Mom, really. I’m not lying, I’m alright. I had to get my head shrunk, since I was still technically a cop when that happened. They cleared me.”

“No nightmares? Flashbacks?”

“The nightmares aren’t any worse than the ones I have been having since the car accident, mom. I promise.”

Her mom nodded. The car accident that left her with the jaw damage people sometimes still noticed, had happened on her dad’s shift when his then-wife Sue, had insisted they drive back home instead of staying at a hotel when a storm hit on their way back from a weekend at grandma’s. Miriam had nearly murdered someone when she found out the details. Robert and Brid’s grandpa had both been there when she woke up in the hospital, as the doctors had been talking to her mom. Robert had been reading to her from her Collected Works of Edgar Allen Poe while her grandpa had been holding her uninjured hand and muttering to himself. Brid was still sure he had been saying the old Irish prayers his parents taught him.

“You barely slept the first week after we brought you home.”

“I remember Grandpa coming to stay. I couldn’t figure why he would want to stay, since you were his former daughter-in-law and he’d never been buddy-buddy with Robert. Then, when the nightmares hit, I didn’t care why he stayed- I was just glad he did.”

“Same.”

She felt her mom move on the bed, then the cool, firm grip of her mom’s hand on her own warmer, rougher one.

“I love you, critter.”

“You too, me mumma.”

She heard her mom’s light chuckle. Nicknames from before her parents’ divorce rarely were used anymore. She was half-surprised she even remembered the response to the old nickname.

“Your grandpa, speaking of, is coming to dinner.”

“Yay.”

“I know, you think you’re being coddled.”

“Oh, I know I am.”

“Well, you worked an alien invasion while off-duty after a terrible appointment. You deserve some pampering and coddling.”

“Cool. Does that mean we’re having turkey?”

“Yes. If you’re grandpa hadn’t been coming, I would have made those quesadillas you love so much, but he can’t handle the spice levels you and Robert think are nothing.”

“Hey, if you hadn’t eaten such spicy food when you were pregnant, I wouldn’t think ghost peppers were a snack food.”

Her mom shook her head as she stood. Brid and Robert didn’t actually snack on ghost peppers, her mom just made it sound like they were that bad. Brid started to get up, stopping when she noticed her mom at the door, hovering.

“What’s up, mom?”

“I just…”

Her mom was shaking. Brid was on her feet instantly.

“Mom?”

Teary pale-green eyes moved to meet her dark ones. The fear in them struck Brid like an icy blast against wet skin.

“You could have died, Brid. I just… I’m so glad that… you’re still here.”

She was wrapped in a fierce hug that she didn’t fight or rush. The events of Metropolis had shaken her mom. It was natural after such a terrible event. She felt her mom’s gentle hands carding through her hair and patting her shoulder, actions that normally were meant to sooth the child being held rather than the adult doing the comforting.

“I’m here, mom. It’s alright.”, she whispered as she hugged her back.

“I know, I just have to convince myself this isn’t a dream and that I’ll wake up to the bad news.”

“Hey ladies!”, Robert called from downstairs. “Grandpa is here!”

“Guess we better head down.”, Miriam muttered.

“Yeah, I’ll head down, you go wipe your eyes.”

“The man misses nothing, so no point.”

“True.”

~*~*~*~*~

Turkey dinner with her mom, Robert, and grandpa-Conall, had been a warm affair. Seeing Robert’s attempt at Sign, when he tried to clarify for Conall, had been wonderful and clumsy at the same time. Having never encountered the Deaf until he started dating Miriam, he had not had any need of Sign until he was in his late 40s. Her mom Signed pretty well, as she had started in her 30s, when she realized she would be meeting her deaf future in-laws. Brid had been Signing her whole life, with Grandpa-Conall as her faithful tutor.

“Dinner was delicious.”, he Signed to her as they sat on the back porch with two tall glasses of sweet tea.

“Yes.”, she Signed back.

“Now, tell me the truth- how are you? Don’t lie, I’ll know.”, he cautioned.

Brid set aside her drink to respond.

“I’m fine, Grandpa. Really. I’m alright.”

“Try again.”

“I will be alright. I just need… some air, some home cooking, and some perspective.”

“Family, good food, and time will give you perspective.”

“I know.”

“Let them take care of you. I know you are independent and strong-willed, and can take care of yourself. Your mom and Robert, they knew you had an appointment that day in Metropolis and they had to watch the news, unable to get ahold of you for a couple hours. Longest, worst hours of their lives. Let them take care of you, let them spoil you a little, let them love on you. They need it. And, I am sure, it will help you to be able to comfort them.”

She smiled over at him.

“Is there anything you don’t see, Grandpa?”

He grinned, those blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Her brother, Ryan, had those same eyes though the coloring was a bit different.

“These eyes are old, yet they are keen.”

She smiled back and leaned to hug him. His arms moved around her, secure and warm as ever, his head leaned against her shoulder. Brid smiled. They must have made quite a pair. Her dapper grandpa with his button-up white shirt, dark brown suit vest and matching slacks, brown leather shoes as gleaming as a soldier on parade, his shimmering, snow-white hair perfectly coiffed, clean shaven, and his glasses nearly disappearing against his still-handsome face. Brid, meanwhile, was in the wrinkled T-shirt and faded blue jeans she had ridden home in with scuffed boots and her hair in a fuzzy braid down her back, her large men’s watch worn on the wrong wrist as usual.

When her Grandpa let her go, he resumed their Signed conversation without missing a beat. Brid could have watched him Sign all day. He was so smooth. No, more than that. Watching him Sign was like watching a Prima Ballerina or a Master Pianist in their element. The fluidity of his Sign was musical and beautiful.

“I’m glad you came home for a while, Brid. I think you needed some time away from skyscrapers and all the reconstruction. You’ve got your own reconstruction here.”

Brid leaned her head against his shoulder, letting his words sink in as well as the warmth of home. Gotham had become her home in many ways, yet, without her family it was not quite the same. Harpers Falls was where her grandparents all lived, where her mom had grown up, and where her mom and Robert now lived full-time now. Her brother even stopped in often enough to have some of his clothes in the guest room at all times.

“Brid?”

She turned to see her mom standing on the porch, holding the cordless house phone.

“Your dad wants to talk to you for a bit.”

She felt her grandpa nudge her.

“Go on. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

She nodded. It was no secret she was not particular close to her father or fond of speaking with him, especially on the phone when it was already so hard to hear anything said to her that way.

“Alright. Then we’re all heading to Dickerson’s for ice cream- no arguing, any of you.”

Her grandpa grinned as he Signed, “Delicious.”

Gotham City – Six Month After Zod’s Attack

The Doctor, a kindly looking man in his early 40s, looked over Brid and her chart one more time as she sat there awkwardly in the paper-like gown. The last time she had surgery had been when she was 14 and it was not something she relished going through again. However, at least this time she didn’t have to be in brought via an ambulance and her relatives weren’t all freaking out on the other side of the wall.

“Ms.O’Hara,”, Dr.Miur started, “are you sure you don’t want to have someone here?”

“I’m sure.”

“In that case, I must insist you stay overnight for observation and then in the morning we will review things to see if you need to stay or you can go home with some supervision. Perhaps a coworker or someone can come check in on you. The phone will not be an option for a bit post-op.”

“I could text.”, she tried to tease.

“Ms.O’Hara, I really would prefer it if you had a relative or such, here. Waking up from anesthesia is not always fun and having someone here to support you could be a real boon.”

“Dr.Miur, I assure you, I know all the risks, and I know all the benefits of having loved ones at hand. However, my relatives have been through the ringer lately with me, and I’ve had about all the coddling and fussing I can handle for a while. I want to get this surgery overwith, go home, rest up, then go see my family with my post-op ears.”

The Doctor nodded, an understanding look on his face.

“You sound like my wife after she had our son. She had simply had enough of my worrying and our mothers’ fussing over her, and she was ready to be left alone for a bit.”

Checking something on her chart, he nodded then placed it back on the bed.

“Someone will be down in a few minutes to get you. Then it’ll be the last preps and they’ll put you under. When you wake up, it will be very quiet in your room with a red note on the door reminding everyone to be quiet and to write or Sign to communicate with you.”

She nodded. The Doctor left and Brid was alone. Deep breath in. Count to three. Deep breath out. She reminded herself a couple times more to breathe that way, then she laid back to wait.

~*~*~*~*~

Lights. Bright lights. Sandpaper tongue. Silence. Uncomfortable bed. Scratchy sheets. Disinfectant, cotton, and plastic smell. Yup, she was post-op in her hospital room. Brid wanted to growl, though unable to hear it through all the gauze in and around her ears, she doubted it would have the desired effect on her mood.

Brid opened her eyes fully to be met with a surprise. A figure sat asleep in the chair beside her bed, somewhat tucked in the corner to hide from the afternoon sunshine peaking through the screen’s edge. Broad shoulders beneath a ridiculously expensive shirt and vest, his long legs stretch in the recliner-chair with his jacket laid over his knees, silver-flecked brown hair falling across his forehead, a small amount of stubble showing across a strong jaw, and sleeping in a chair next to her bed. Bruce-friggin-Wayne, her mind supplied. She could not figure out why he was there. She hadn’t told him, her coworkers, or her family about the time, date, and location of the surgery. She had told her boss, of course. And she had mentioned to her landlord that she would be out for the day to have surgery and that when she came back, she would need quiet so her phone was going to be off the hook and she might not hear the door. Her landlord was a nice, older widow who was a bit nosy though not in a mean way. She thought it was her job to look after her 8 female tenants to ensure their doors locked properly, their heat worked, and that they did not ever disappear for a time without her worrying.

Brid wondered how Bruce found out about the details of her surgery. Sure, he had known she was going to have the surgery. He had even been aware she was going to be taking a few days off and might not have her phone handy, but she hadn’t told him where she was having the surgery or exactly when. She was about to go back to sleep when she noticed Bruce’s hand move to his pocket. He retrieved his phone and quickly typed a message, then showed it to her with large letters allowing her to read it at the distance.

“Why are you awake?”

She rasped around her dry tongue, “Just woke up.”

Bruce moved with surprising speed and agility, for a guy who had been sleeping in a hospital recliner for a couple hours. He brought a cup with ice water and a straw, up to her lips, holding it while she sipped. She gave him a thumbs-up when she was done and he put the cup on the table where she could easily reach it.

“Thanks.”

He waved it off as he moved to sit on the edge of his seat.

“How are you here?”, she asked.

Bruce typed on the screen again.

“I’m a spy.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Did you bribe someone?”

He grinned and she was sure that was NOT how he got the intel.

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

He shook his head. She wanted to talk more but her eyelids felt like someone was tugging them down to her chin. Bruce waved a hand to get her to look up, then he used broken, somewhat stiff and proper Sign.

“YOU GO SLEEP. I HERE WHEN YOU WAKE. SLEEP.”

Brid smiled with a slight nod, allowing herself to drift off. She felt, a moment later- or so she assumed it to be only a moment later, as Bruce pulled the covers up over her arms and shoulders to tuck her in. He was a billionaire with a reputation as a daredevil drunken debaucher. Despite that, Brid felt safer with him than she felt in the middle of the police station she used to work in. There was just something about Bruce that always made her feel safe. She smiled. Maybe she would have happy dreams about how to pay him back for being here.

Her last thought, before she opened her eyes again, was how weird it was to dream about Bruce Wayne. Sure, he was a friend. He might even be considered a pretty good friend after Metropolis. Especially as he had been so keen to make sure she was alright and had kept her apprised of what went on with the little girl and the man whose legs had been trapped. Yet, to dream about him being in her hospital room trying to take care of her and stiffly Signing to talk to her, was a new weird.

Then she opened her eyes and found there was a coat laying across the chair. A man’s black coat. Too big for her, far too big for Robert or Grandpa, and a bit too broad to be her brother’s. He was 6’6 but built like a reed so Brid was sure the jacket wasn’t his. Scanning the room, she found Bruce listening to instructions from Dr.Miur.

“Bruce?”

Both men turned to look at her. Bruce offered a soft smile while Dr.Miur moved over to her, pulling out a little light as he looked over her head and into her eyes. He pulled out a tablet from his white jacket pocket, using a stylus to write a message to her. She hoped that he was like her mom, and had good handwriting despite his profession. She was proven wrong. Thankfully, she was fluent in chicken scratch.

“No, I’m not in pain.”

He nodded, then wrote something else before tilting the screen so she could read it.

“I could go for something to eat, yes. I’m more thirsty, though.”

He nodded, then pointed towards the nurse’s station before heading out. She assumed he was going to get them to buzz someone to bring her something easy to digest, since she was post-op. Looking up at Bruce, she found him writing on his phone for her and then holding it so she could read it.

“You’d think an ear-surgeon would know some Sign.”

She shrugged, then asked, “Why are you here?”

Before he could answer, the Doctor came back in with a note that explained that since she was going home with Mr.Wayne, she could be discharged in a few hours times rather than tomorrow afternoon or the following morning. She nodded, then waited for him to leave before looking back up Bruce. He gestured for her to wait a second, before he typed again and showed her the message.

“I told them you could come to Wayne manner, that me and my butler would be there to look after you. Alfred already laid in supplies. He’s got everything to make pasta with marinara and chicken, he has everything for beef roast with vegetables, and I have Olympia’s on speed dial in case you get a hankering for Greek.”

“Looks like you thought of everything.”

He shrugged.

“Why?”

He looked confused. She clarified.

“Why are you doing all of this?”

He typed some more.

“I want to. And it isn’t good to be alone after surgery- and don’t say your landlady will check in on you. That is not the same. Alfred is there all day, I am there most of the day. My guest room also has a huge bathroom and Alfred loves to have someone else around besides me all the time.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. He typed some more.

“He actually suggested us hosting you. I was just going to invite myself over to make sure you had round the clock care.”

She nodded.

“His idea is less-creepy.”

Bruce had the sense to look a little sheepish.

Sorry. I did not like the idea of you being alone right now, with all of this.

She smiled, feeling tired but relaxed.

“Thank you.”

He smiled, Signing without finesse.

“DO NOT WORRY. IT NOTHING.”

Brid shook her head with a smile.

“You are a strange man, Bruce.”

He nodded before moving to help get her trap closer to her, as an orderly walked into the room with a tray for her. When she lifted the lid off the food a moment later, she looked at the crackers, chicken noodle soup, and a small cup of ice water, and sighed. Bruce seemed to catch on quickly.

“Not a fan?”, he typed.

She shook her head.

“I used to be.”

Lifting the bowl of soup, she began sipping the very salty broth. It was the only part she liked of chicken soup. Her grandpa claimed it was his fault as he never liked chicken noodle soup either, preferring beef stew or the occasional grilled cheese with tomato soup. Brid didn’t like soup, at all, after having to eat so much of it when she had the surgery to fix her jaw. Then, four years later when she had to have her remaining wisdom teeth removed before they made her bite any more crooked, she was once more on a soup-only diet.

Bruce began typing something, then showed her the screen. It had been a text to Alfred. It was instructions to please have the chicken pasta ready when they arrived, since the hospital was trying to poison the patient with salty soup. She was about to comment when the response came though.

“Yes, sir. Please tell Ms.O’Hara that I expect the plate to be cleaned when she is done. Cannot heal on an empty stomach.”

She smiled.

“Have I mentioned lately that I love Alfred?”

Bruce smiled with a nod as he read Alfred’s message and typed a short response. Then he typed something else and showed it to her.

“You can leave in a couple hours. Stay strong.”

She pulled up an arm and pretended to show off to great bicep. Bruce chuckled, the movement of his chest giving him away. Gently, Brid tapped Bruce’s elbow. Those dark orbs moved to look directly at her and she felt as if stripped of all masks and protections. That gaze was far too penetrative for someone with his reputation. Not for the first time, Brid wondered how no one seemed to realize there was so much more to Bruce than an expensive suit, drunken escapades, and fancy cars.

“Thank you.”

He started to wave her off and she reached to stop him. His hands were shockingly warm in the cool hospital room. And rough for a businessman.

“Just let me thank you, and don’t wave it off.”

He nodded and muttered a, “You’re welcome.”, before he seemed to catch himself.

“I can lip-read pretty well, Bruce.”, and she felt him give her hand a squeeze before he moved to take up his seat once more at her side.

Chapter Text

Gotham City- One Week Before Zod’s Attack

Officer O’Hara came around the corner, gun raised, to find her fellow officer laying on the ground with four armed men laughing as they stood over him. Even in the dark alley, she could make out that the other officer was bleeding. She had expected this, possibly worse, from the radio call. 10-13X. In Gotham, that could mean a lot of things and not one of them good.

Creeping closer so as not to alert the four gunmen to her presence, Brid moved in. She could barely tell the other officer was breathing. He had to have been unconscious. He was so still and the young gunmen were all mostly ignoring him. She ticked off the details in her head. The one who seemed to be the ring leader was about 6’1-2 with dark hair, pale skin, a tattoo of some kind of barb wire looking stuff around his jaw and one ear, a highly illegally modified pistol in his right hand and a smaller pistol in the left, maybe 20-22 years of age and slim. The one moving the least was about the same height, darker skinned but probably causasion, dark brown or black hair, eyes behind yellow sunglasses, stockier in build with two pistols tucked into his pants, probably a little younger than the ring leader.

The other two were shorter, slim, possibly high school aged, with blond hair and sad attempts at facial hair, home made tattoos haphazardly drawn across their arms and hands, holding guns too large for their young hands, colorful bandannas tied around their necks. Both were clearly taking their orders and their cues from the tall boy with the ear tattoo. Brid pulled her radio and quietly rattled off some details for any backup that might arrive. She did not hold out much hope for reinforcements.

Sure enough, she was met with radio silence. No one heard her, or no one was willing to come to this part of town at night, to face at least four gunmen in Gotham. Some days she kind of hated her job. She let out a slow breath. Time to earn her pay check.

“Drop your weapons!”

All four spun around to face her, aiming at her. So much for obedient youths.

“GCPD, put your guns down and then your hands up!”

The ring leader laughed, then fired shots at her. Brid ducked sideways behind the corner of a building, swearing under her breath. More shots came but she could tell they were coming from more than one gun and the boys must have scattered before shooting again. She peered around the corner only to have a shot hit the block just above her head, sending crumbled debris over her hat.

She growled a bit, then radioed once more that there was an officer down and four gunmen, and that she was requesting backup. Brid wouldn’t get her hopes up. Not in this part of town, at night. Taking a chance, she twisted and ran for the overturned dumpster a few yards to the left of where she had first attempted contact. The four youths fired at her as she ran. Brid wasn’t to fastest sprinter in her class at the Academy, but thankfully these boys weren’t that good a shot.

Panting behind the dumpster, she took stock of her situation. The ring leader was now hiding behind a car at the opposite end of the street, the quiet one was hiding behind another corner of the building down between the injured officer and the ring leader’s car, one of the two kids was hiding behind another dumpster, the other was tucked behind some loose trash cans. The injured officer was still laid out in the middle.

“O’Hara?”, she heard a voice shouting.

Turning, Brid saw another officer, a skinny red-headed young man with shaking hands holding his gun. Angus Tucker. She had met him a couple months ago at a retirement party, then a couple times since then at similar police gatherings. He was pretty fresh out of the Academy and had moved to Gotham for college, originally from somewhere up North. Small town boy. They had bonded over that.

“Tucker, what are you doing here?”

“That’s my partner, Tony Hernandez.”

She nodded. Tony was a really good cop. Not just cause he could spout chapter and verse of the rule book- he was good because he genuinely cared. He wanted Gotham to be safe, he wanted his 10 year old daughter to be able to walk down the street without fearing the likes of the Joker or a random flasher. He wanted a city that was a haven for it’s people.

“Tucker!”

He looked back over at her.

“Remember booger flushin’?”, she asked, hoping he would remember the story.

These criminals in Gotham knew the police procedure and drills better than most of the cops did. They would need to bring some good old country smarts to these city slicker criminals. Tucker nodded, a small smile almost hitting his features. They had discussed pranking people by taking them into a field with someone already waiting around the back to make noise and be scary, while a second person lead the newbie through a field. Brid hated the prank, but Tucker had often been the one laying in wait to make noises, when he had been growing up with his older cousins. He took her hint and began moving out and away, with she hoped, the intent to come back around behind these guys while she kept them busy.

“Why don’t the four of you surrender before my backup gets here, and things get ugly?”

“You ain’t got backup!”

She couldn’t dispute the guy.

“SWAT is en route, dudes. Party’s over.”

“NO, PIG! You ain’t got SWAT. It’s just you and that skinny leprechaun. We got all night. Too bad your pig over here doesn’t have more blood. He could stick around for the show.”

She cursed under her breath. These guys knew too well that they had the upper hand here. Several upper hands, really.

“What if y’all just walked away and let us have our officer?”

“What is we just shoot you two hick pigs and walk away anyhow?”

The four boys laughed. Brid was annoyed, verging on rage. New strategy.

“Oh really? Hick? Pig? Do you think those words even mean anything? You sound like a bad leftover LAW & ORDER bad guy. One that doesn’t even have a name in the credits, just Bad Guy Number Four.”

Two shots. She must have hit a nerve. She decided to laugh, a good belly laugh.

“Who taught you how to shoot, some blind idiot?”

They fired at her again, this time putting a hole in the can right beside Brid’s shoulder.

“Crap.”, she muttered before sliding a little further to the opposite side, where the lid was also turned back to provide another layer.

“Wait, maybe you learned from watching old westerns. They were shooting cap guns, dudes. No chance of anyone noticing how bad your aim was.”

Another shot.

“Huh, you’re improving.”, she said loudly as she noted the bullets had missed by a wider margin this time.

“Guess it’s true what they say about practice.”

All four of them fired at her. Then she noticed police lights from the other side of the alley and a voice over the bull horn. Tucker.

“Put your guns down and get your hands up! You’re surrounded!”

Now the ring leader was pinned in the middle of this fight. Not a good place to be. Unfortunately, he decided to go down guns blazing. He began firing towards Tucker and his three flunkies took turns firing in her or Tucker’s directions. She heard glass shattering under the impact of shots as more shots continued. Then, just as suddenly, one of the boys screamed and it seemed the shots changed direction.

Brid risked looking up over the dumpster. Tucker’s lights were obliterated atop his police cruiser, with glass everywhere. The ring leader lay on the ground not far from Officer Hernandez and one of the two youngest gunmen was running towards her, unarmed, screaming. Brid thought she caught motion in the dark shadows between two of the buildings to her right. She ordered the running boy to the ground, cuffing him to the dumpster before heading in. She quietly made her way up the street, armed and watchful. She saw it again, the movement in the dark. Deciding that she should check there, she changed direction. She wanted to check on Tucker, but she would do him no good if they got gunned down because she didn’t keep track of one of the gunmen.

She came to where Hernandez lay. Crouching, she kept her gun in her left hand and reached with her right, somewhat blindly, to find his pulse. It was strong and he stirred slightly as she touched him. Glancing, she saw that he was bleeding from a graze across his forehead and that there were two shots in his vest, neither of which appeared to be bleeding, although the hole in his lower arm was worrisome.

“Hernandez?”

He muttered something.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

She moved further into the shadows, eyes keen. She saw the second ‘kid’ of the group laid out cold on the ground, a zip-tie holding his hands behind his back. She knew those zip-ties. Batman. Explained the darkness and the shots, as well as the screaming kid. Batman was way scarier to those who lived in the dark, than any cop from the GCPD was.

Continuing, Brid was just about to go for her flashlight when there was a flurry of gunshots. She felt a pain in her thigh and let herself fall. Rolling onto her back, she shifted her gun to her right hand and reached with her left, checking her leg. Sure enough, she had a graze of some sort across her left thigh. It wasn’t deep or too jagged, and she was fairly certain there wasn’t anything lodged in there. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Brid moved up into a crouch. Taking stock of the scene, she stood and continued forward. There was still at least one flunky out here.

She had movement in her peripheral and turned in time to see Batman coming down to the ground near her. He took a look at her and held a finger to his lips. Brid didn’t need to be told twice. Holding still and silent, she waited. Sure enough, the flunky and the ring leader both popped out to come at Batman. Without thinking, Brid fired one shot into the suspect’s leg, taking him down. Batman took down the flunky with a single punch to knock him out cold. Batman turned to her, then back to the suspect she had shot. Before Brid could say a word, the Batman was using one of his ties to effectively cuff the suspect, taking the weapons off the man and kicking them to the side.

Brid was about to thank him when he stepped forward, pointing to her leg. His digitally scrambled sounding voice came out, nearly startling her. It was a bit hard to understand and she found herself lip-reading him in the dim light to fill in the gaps.

“You’re injured, do you need help?”

She shook her head.

“You already helped. I’m good. Thank you.”

He nodded.

“Officer Tucker is in his car, scared stiff but unharmed.”

She nodded. Tucker was a good person but he was not cut out to be a cop. Or a permanent resident of Gotham City.

“Thank you.”

Batman nodded. Not for the first time, Brid found herself thinking the Batman was oddly familiar to her. She had encountered him twice before, though the second time she barely made out his silhouette before he was gone. The first time though, the day after getting her plaque from the city, she had been within five feet of him and could not help the strange sense that she knew him from somewhere. Something about the shape of his mouth and the shape of his teeth. Even his dark eyes held something there that struck a chord of recognition.

“Police are coming.”

She nodded.

“I guess you’ll be going then, Mr.Batman.”

There was a small, quarter-smile tugging at the right corner of his mouth.

“Just Batman.”

She turned, knowing he always disappeared whenever someone took their eyes off of him, and limped towards Officer Hernandez. Meanwhile, from the rooftops above, the Dark Knight peered through a simpler set of his binoculars to watch her. Blood was flowing well enough down her lower thigh to worry him a bit, though she was moving well and seemed determined to reach the injured officer. Bruce had already checked the man, from above before he jumped into the mess, and was sure the man’s head injury was minor enough that he would be fine with some medical intervention. The wound to his lower arm was more serious, though Bruce was sure the man would be able to return to active duty.

He wanted to make sure that Brid got back to her vehicle safely, though it was clear after she checked on the other two officers, she was not going to leave Officer Hernandez’s side until help arrived. Bruce smiled to himself. Of course, she wasn’t going to budge, even if she had seen with her own eyes that all four suspects were neutralized. Bruce decided to wait with her, even if she would be unaware he was there.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Gotham City- Six months after Zod’s Attack

Brid walked beside Bruce, feeling a bit bad that he was carrying all her bags. They had stopped off quickly at her apartment for her to pack some things she might need or want, such as clothes and her favorite tea, as well as to tell her landlady that Brid was staying with a couple friends while she recovered, and not to worry. Mrs.Arvon had smiled, a bit amazed that one of her tenants was friends with Bruce Wayne, who it seemed Mrs.Arvon thought of mostly as the poor rich boy who watched his parents’ murder and whose adopted son had taken off never to be heard from again after all Bruce had done for him.

Brid had never been to the Wayne household and was a bit surprised. She had expected, due to knowing how long the Wayne family had been a prominent fixture in Gotham, to find some Victorian mansion. At the very least she had expected some large, brick and stone monster that looked like something from a well-manicured horror film. The single-story glass box was not what she had envisioned. Bruce pulled into a spacious garage full of things she would have to come drool over later, including a vintage motorcycle, and then carried her small overnight bag and her larger duffel bag, as he lead her into the kitchen’s back door.

Alfred greeted her with a notepad and pen, holding up a little sign that greeted her and gave her a small bit of news in remarkably precise handwriting. The smile on his face warmed her as much as the messages.

Welcome Ms.O’Hara – I’ve looked up a Sign book and now know the signs for Pain, Hungry, Drink, Doctor, Help, and Sleep.

She grinned up at him, telling him, “Those are almost the basic Signs they teach children. Survival Signs.”

He nodded. Bruce came around the edge of the counter, taking a moment to sniff the kettle of marinara sauce on the stove. Brid lip-read him.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Alfred.”

Alfred smiled, looking quite proud of himself. Bruce tensed a bit. That pride wasn’t just about the sauce. Belately, Bruce realized he may have played right into Alfred’s hand. He had brought Brid right here where Alfred could spend time with her and where Alfred could make Bruce squirm a bit without worrying Brid would hear every hint Alfred might drop to Bruce.

Turning to Brid, Bruce offered a small smile to try to cover the irritation he felt towards Alfred at present. He hoped Brid didn’t catch on as he Signed in the basic, jagged Sign he had learned so far. He intended to improve.

“COME. I SHOW YOU ROOM FOR YOU.”

She nodded with a smile, before turning to Alfred and laying a hand on the older man’s forearm.

“Thank you, Alfred. For inviting me and everything.”

Alfred looked ready to burst. Reaching, he patted her hand with his own and spoke slowly enough to make it easy for anyone to lip-read him.

“You are most welcome, Miss O’Hara.”

She beamed at him.

“Brid, Alfred. It’s Brid.”

He nodded. Bruce lead the way back to the guest room, unable to maintain his grumpiness after seeing Alfred and Brid’s interaction. Perhaps Alfred truly did need to have other company than Bruce and ghosts of the past. Bruce also noticed the way Brid was looking around. It was not with her usual appreciation for architecture, but rather a wary, distrustful expression as she eyeballed the glass around them.

They reached the guest room and Bruce showed her in. Alfred had given the room a makeover while Bruce had been sitting with Brid. Gone was the black and white bedsheets and matching curtains, and in their place lay a beautiful set in rich amber, golden yellows, vibrant purples, and some deep cranberry, with a painting of fall foliage on one wall, and a fresh set of cranberry colored towels set out in the en suite bathroom.

“This room is beautiful.”

Bruce looked around. It did look a lot more welcoming thanks to the makeover. Laying her bags on the padded bench at the foot of the bed, Bruce turned back to Brid and began typing a message to her.

We can have dinner whenever you’re ready. Is there anything you need?

She smiled, looking around.

“I think Alfred has me all set up better than any 5-star hotel could hope to.”

Bruce nodded, giving the painting a look. It had been a fixture in the library, once upon a time. His father bought it at a charity auction about two years before he married Bruce’s mother. She had thought it was beautiful and when she found it tucked in an unused bedroom at Wayne Manor, she had asked if Thomas would mind her moving it somewhere that it would be seen more. Apparently, his father had taken it upon himself to move it to their bedroom and then every year after for her birthday, he would buy her something by that same artist.

Bruce had put it in the library, when he was a teenager, because it was a pleasant reminder of times when he would be sick and his mom would set him up in his parents’ room to eat soup and listen to her reading to him, then his father coming home to join them for soup and stories. Dick hadn’t liked the painting and being unaware of the story behind it, had not made a secret of how he found it gloomy. Alfred moved it around to surprise Bruce about where he would find it, until Dick’s death. Then the painting, along with a great number of reminders of Dick, Thomas, and Martha, were all hidden away in places Bruce would never have to see them again.

“It’s older than you are.”, he said before remembering she couldn’t really hear him.

“How do you know that? Some famous painter?”

Pulling out his phone, he typed.

It’s older than I am. My father bought it before he met my mother.

She nodded, her features getting sad for a moment before she looked worried.

“Does it bother you to have it out?”

He shook his head, looking over at it. The colors were brilliant, the focus a little soft as if looking through a light haze or a slightly fogged up café window. As a kid, he used to stare at it a lot when he was sick and laid out in his parents’ bed, trying to figure out what part of the world it was supposed to show.

I’m glad to have it out. It deserves better than a box in a climate controlled store room.

She read his message and nodded.

“Well, give me a minute to check my bandages and such, then I’ll be out for dinner. Do you guys eat in the kitchen or…?”, she trailed off.

Bruce Signed.

“TABLE IN LIVING ROOM. I WILL WAIT AND SHOW YOU.”

She smiled, then headed into the bathroom with a towel and her overnight bag, closing the door behind her. Taking a moment, Bruce texted Alfred to let him know they would be out in a couple minutes, once she had checked her bandages and such. Alfred texted back a moment later to remind him that they would eat at the table in the living room area and not at the small kitchen table. He chuckled. For a brief flash he felt like a little kid being reminded of the obvious, because Company Was Here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brid had enjoyed the meal very much, even when Bruce had to duck out a bit early after a phone call. Before she could ask, Alfred had supplied an explanation via the notepad and pen.

International Conference Call. Bad timing.

She had smiled, then continued to talk with Alfred, which forced the poor man to write most of what he wanted to say until she noticed a cramp in his hand from so much writing, and writing so quickly while trying to maintain the neatness of his print. She had touched his hand and told him that she could read lips pretty well and she could hear a little bit of what he said, so as long as he looked right at her and didn’t talk too fast, she could still talk.

They spoke a while longer before she started yawning and he had sent her off to bed, scolding her about Guests and Manners when she tried to help clean up from dinner. Before she retired, he had drawn her a quick blue print of the house, outlining how to get to the kitchen, living room, and library from the guest room. He had also written a note about the phone in her room and hitting the 3 connected her to his room, hitting the 8 connected her to Bruce’s cell to ping them and let them know she needed help. She had thanked him, then headed off with her little map while he cleaned up.

It took a couple minutes to get herself ready for bed, throwing on an oversize sweat shirt and yoga pants with fuzzy socks. Nothing she wouldn’t have opened the door to get a pizza delivery or check her mail in, without worrying of being scandalous. She checked her bandages again, making sure her hair was braided back so it wouldn’t get stuck in the adhesive tape, and that she put a pillow on either side of her to keep herself from laying on her side. The surgeon had told her for the first night, to try to lay on her back and not put pressure on either ear. At the moment, she felt like she was wearing white Princess Leia hair buns with a fear of knocking loose at some Halloween party.

She had not been in bed long before she found herself awake again, yet unable to sleep. Pulling out her map from Alfred, she opted for a book. Surely Bruce had to have some murder mystery, historical tome, or even a trashy magazine she could read to send herself off to sleep. With little effort, she found herself inside the library which appeared to be the centermost room in the house. That also meant it had no windows. She supposed that was better than the too-many windows the rest of the house appeared to have.

The library was impressive. She had not been entirely sure what to expect, considering how different the house had been from what she pictured of Wayne Manor and how much kinder and easy-going Alfred was compared to her image of a Butler. She had picture mahogany desks, heavy leather chairs, antique globes, large stained-glass windows, shelves overflowing with all manner of books, and a fireplace with a painting of some long dead relative overtop.

There certainly were the overflowing shelves with all manner of books, but otherwise it was very different. The fireplace was a smaller, fancy one with the crystal looking center that lit up with gas flame, the table was smoky black glass and gleaming silver tone metal, two-step ladders allowed someone as tall as Bruce to reach the top shelves with ease, and there were ergonomic chairs and an extra-long sofa covered in what seemed to be the softest cotton she had ever felt. Judging by the way each piece was laid out and what books lay near each seat, Brid would lay money that Alfred used the chair and Bruce used the couch.

Brid moved to the shelves to inspect them for something she might read. It took her only a moment to find a book on the architectural history of Gotham City. She grinned as she looked at the photo on the front, showing the oldest still-standing theatre in the city. Brid had been there once, when she was a teenager. Her mom had a friend who was manager at the time, and he thought it important to expose children and teenagers to art. He invited Brid and her mom to come and see a show while Robert was out of town on business for the weekend. Brid, her mom, the manager’s wife- who was also a friend of her mom’s, as well as two other guests of management, had gone to see a production of RENT.

Brid decided to enjoy the book back in her room, rather than risking falling asleep in the library, without the pillows to force her away from laying on her bandaged ears. She thumbed through the first photo section of the book as she quietly moved about the house. She was stopped, however, by an odd vibration in the floor. It almost felt like when she had been close to a panic room when it closed by accident at the office Robert had worked in a few years ago.

Brid followed the vibration, finding it odd. She also worried, with a glass house over the edge of a lake that the structure might sink into the water just like the House of Usher. The vibration led her to the kitchen, where a light flashed by the one cellar door. Her eyes went wide. That was probably the wine cellar and if Alfred had fallen in there, he might have called for help with Bruce on the phone someplace and her mostly-deaf to his cries. She checked to see if there was some gauge or anything to indicate what the red light meant. Seeing nothing, Brid punched the little gray button below it and the door slid free.

Steep stairs made of rock, lead down into the dark. Brid, former cop and headstrong modern woman that she was, had never been overly fond of being alone in the dark. She was even less fond when her sense of hearing was so diminished as it currently was. Exchanging the book for a small flashlight hanging near the fridge, she ventured downward, following the line of the stairs.

Reaching a landing, she looked around, seeing this was no wine cellar. There were work rooms, computers, a shower, elevator, platforms all about, and below, the Batmobile. Then she spotted something else. Someone else. Batman. Except he wore no cape or cowl, allowing his face to be seen clearly and little obscuring of his figure. Bruce Wayne. Bruce was Batman.

Brid turned, walking back up the stairs, her mind racing. Racing so much that she almost walked over Alfred. Judging from the look on the older gentleman’s face, he knew what she had seen.

“I will make some tea.”, he said before heading down the stairs behind her as she stood dumb in the kitchen.

Brid numbly took the architecture book and walked back to the guest room. She put the book on the bed and then moved to the bathroom, wiping her face with a cool cloth to rouse herself a bit. Then she laughed. How had she missed it? Those lips and teeth, the cleft in his chin, the dark eyes, that one-quarter smile she had seen Bruce do so many times. While muttering to herself, she checked her bandages and attempted to find more excuses to hide away for a few minutes longer.

She worried how Bruce might react. She did not think he would be violent or overly hostile. Not Bruce. She did worry he would stop talking to her and become self-isolating, or that things between them would simply be awkward. As she went to step, she remembered something. It made so much more sense now. When she had been shot, that night in the alley with Batman at her side, she had come home to her apartment to find a note asking her to lunch if she was up for it. At the time, she had given it little thought and believed it a happy coincidence.

There was no sense in avoiding it any longer. With a deep breath, she made her way to the kitchen. The whole way, her mind replayed scenes over and again, of her three encounters with Batman and her interactions with Bruce. When he took her to dinner after she came home from her weekend back in Harpers Falls, the look in his eyes when she encountered him that terrible day in Metropolis, seeing him tease with Alfred when she had come to meet him at Wayne HQ and walked in on he and Alfred as they sat by the window, and of when she woke in the hospital room a few hours ago to find him sitting seemingly asleep in the chair beside her bed.

Alfred was pouring a third mug of tea as she walked in, dressed in his dressing coat over a pajama suit, his hair only slightly less tamed than usual. Bruce, on the other hand, looked as if he had just rolled out of bed after surviving Finals week. Hair messy and a bit sweaty, a faded cotton T-shirt and drawstring pants with bare feet, and dark circles below tired eyes.

“I’ve set tea out for us.”, Alfred said right to her, then produced a notepad and slid it towards Bruce.

This was not a conversation Bruce was fluent enough in Sign, and he would not want Brid to have to lip-read him for all of this. Especially not at four in the morning when she had just been on an operating table a few hours ago. Granted, he had never wanted to have a need of having this conversation with her. Ever. Alfred sat back, almost seeming to try to disappear in their peripheral views so they would forget he was there.

“You’re Batman.”, Brid started.

Of course, she would be direct and blunt. It was one of his favorite things about her.

“Yes.”

She shook her head. Bruce wanted to take stock of her, read her reactions as he so often did with those around him in most any other circumstance. However, it seemed his perceptions were tainted by his fears and his hopes. He could not count on his deductive skill, leaving him adrift. He did not care for it. Not one bit.

“I should have known.”

Bruce wrote, “What?”

“I should have known.”, Brid repeated.

“Who else could be Batman?”, she asked before adding, “Who else could afford the toys? Who else had those hands that showed they were no stranger to work and pain? Who else, in all of Gotham, would care enough about this city? The Golden Son of Gotham would have been instilled with that undying love and devotion to his family’s city, from birth, with the wealth, education, means, and motivation needed to fund and live as the Dark Knight of Gotham. It make so much sense that it’s you, I’m almost ready to punch myself for having not realized. I mean really, who else on Earth would even be so insanely attached to the heart of this city, to be willing to risk himself that way?”

Then, another thought seemed to occur to her. One that saw her mouth drop open and her eyes water slightly as they met his own. This was it. She had realized that he was mad, that she was endangered now for her association.

“Dick was Robin, wasn’t he?”

Bruce sat back, the air sucked from him in an instant. Of all that her mind had to work out within an hour of learning his of his double-life, his duel-identities, she had to pluck out the worst of it. He felt something on his arm. Looking, he found her warm, slightly roughened hand, laid gently across the back of his larger, hardened one. Following the line of her arm up to her neck then her face, he met her dark eyes, the heartbreak of them evident. She was not showing him sympathy, no. Empathy. She felt his pain, a compassion beyond that of shallow sympathies.

Turning his hand palm-up, her captured her hand in his. For a moment, they sat there, still as stone. He could not bring himself to speak. Not of that night, of losing Dick, or the charade to hide the circumstances of Dick’s disappearance from his life and from Gotham. Of the nights spent pummeling criminals then drowning his sorrows, with Alfred forced to watch as Bruce nearly self-destructed.

“Alfred?”

Bruce looked up to see Brid reaching out to place a hand on Alfred’s shoulder, offering some measure of comfort. She had seen that Alfred was grieved by the loss as well. For a long while, no one spoke or moved. They all sat, thinking and trying not to think at the same time. Alfred was the first to break the spell of grief.

“If you two will excuse an old man, I must get some sleep before some early errands will require my attention.”

He rose, offering Brid a kind smile and grasping Bruce’s shoulder, a gentle squeeze given before the man walked out of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Bruce shook his head, looking back at Brid.

“No, Brid – it is not a terrible thing you did. This is the first either of us have been able to acknowledge, outside of just the two of us in this house, that Dick is… really gone.”

Even now, he could not force the word past his lips. His son was as his parents were, as many friends Bruce had buried. Gone. Never to be seen again.

“I was going to read a little. I felt sleep was going to be hard to come by, earlier.”

He recognized the invitation in her voice. She tugged him along to his own library, seeking out a book on gardening, she pulled it out and began to read bits of it to him aloud, pointing out things with the flowers and adding random facts from history or of her own grandfather’s gardening wisdom. It was not something that challenged him to think or properly engage with her. He sat back, comfortable in the oversized sofa he had special ordered for the room, allowing the sound of her voice and the turning of the pages, to ease him off to a drowsy state just shy of real sleep. He would not sleep now. Could not allow himself. Else, he would dream of the worst night of his life, the night he lost Dick.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Gotham- Present Day

Bruce would never tire of seeing Alfred and Brid, sitting across the table from one another, exchanging jokes and fake-insults as they played checkers. All three of them could play chess, but the two seemed more amused by their lively games of checkers. Bruce was just glad to see them both smiling and happy as he read over some reports.

After she had come over to recover from her surgery, she and Alfred had developed a closeness that seemed to liven up the older gentleman in a way that Bruce had missed seeing. And it never hurt to see Brid smiling and happy. As the two bantered back and forth, Bruce finished off the last couple reports he had to read and sign off on.

“Bruce?”

He looked up at Brid to see her holding her own empty mug as well as Alfred’s.

“I’m getting refills, want on?”

He shook his head, offering a small smile. She nodded and headed over to the kettle. Bruce sipped his coffee, which seemed a bit odd with the scent of good, hardy tea in the air.

“What are the reports for? You building something new?”

He shook his head as he turned to the final page.

“No. Acquiring an old company.”

Alfred chimed in, “He’s buying a local treasure and institution in order to keep it from going under.”

Brid arched an eyebrow, her curiosity clear. Bruce let out a sigh, finishing the last three sentences on the page before pulling out his pen to sign it.

“Kiral Foods has been around for over a century. Not the current generation’s fault that their father and uncle were terrible business men who squandered a good deal of what grandpa left them. The current generation, Eliza and Sylvia, are both very creative with a strong ethic about how to operate the company. Unfortunately, what they inherited was a lot of debt and not a lot of functioning business. I’m buying 49% of the company and injecting much-needed funds and assistance from lawyers, accountants, and such, that way it can remain in Gotham, providing hundreds of good jobs, and also maintaining a solid, inexpensive, healthy option at the grocery stores.”

Brid nodded.

“They make a wonderful microwave dinner. All natural, low sodium, no preservatives, grass-fed beef. I forget the fancy name, but it amounts to a spicy beef over rice kind of thing. Tastes really good. You wouldn’t guess I grabbed it out of the freezer.”

Bruce nodded, recognizing the dish she was referring to.

“That was Eliza. She noticed that they had almost nothing in the frozen section, and she thought if they could have something that came in a green container, that was- as you said, all natural and healthy, that it would be a great thing for busy moms, single working people, and overworked guys needing to grab something to have during lunches on 12 hour shifts, without it being super salty mac’n’cheese in a plastic dish that may or may not have it’s own carcinogens. It was one of the few things doing well when I came in and saw how bad the company was doing, overall. Her other big idea isn’t out yet.”

Bringing Alfred his mug, Brid slid into the seat across from him, but looked over the back to face Bruce.

“What’s the new idea?”

“Ice cream. Same principles- no preservatives, milk from cows that haven’t been treated or augmented in some way, made with real fruit and such to flavor it, biodegradable containers. Simple, tasty, practically healthy.”

Brid brightened.

“Well, if it’s half as good as the beef and rice dish, and it comes in Cookies’n’crème flavor, count me in.”

He tipped his mug.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alfred made a move, then grinned.

“Checkmate.”

She snorted, then eyed the board for a moment before moving one of her black pieces. Bruce watched, already seeing her next three moves. Alfred countered and she adjusted her strategy in a heartbeat. An impasse.

“Again?”, Alfred teased with a false-exasperated tone.

Brid cheekily smile as she shrugged.

“Rematch?”, she suggested.

“No.”, Alfred answered as he yawned slightly.

Standing, Alfred took his mug of tea and his book he had been reading when they got home, and moved away from his seat. Bruce recognized this for what it really was, however he was too tired to attempt to call Alfred on it or dodge it.

“I’m afraid these old bones are in need of their beauty sleep.”

“You must sleep a lot.”, Brid teased.

Alfred smiled, striking a pose clearly meant to show off this beauty she had alluded to.

“Clearly. Now, if you young people- well, young person and middle aged person there in the corner, can manage without me, I shall be away to sleep.”

Brid chuckled a little, behind her mug as Bruce made a show of rolling his eyes, despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Alfred waved them off and walked out with hit tea and novel. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bruce decided to break the silence.

“I’m not giving you that rematch either.”

Brid shook her head as she went to rinse out her tea mug.

“I didn’t figure. You win before we ever place a piece on the board, can’t be any fun for you.”

“He’s always better when you’re around, you know?”

She smiled over at him, her hip leaned against the counter in a familiar pose.

“One of the many reasons I can’t say ‘no’ when you invite me over.”

“One of many? What are some of the others, I might ask?”

For a moment, he thought she might not answer. She avoided eye contact, looking away and towards the door that went down to the Batcave, then her eyes moved to the table they had enjoyed dinner over not long ago.

“Alfred’s marinara, of course.”

He nodded, conceding that one as obvious.

“I also am in love with your library. Majorly.”

“I’ll leave it to you in the will.”, he tried to joke.

Judging by the look on her face, she did not appreciate the humor. He allowed her to see the guilty look on his face, before urging her to continue her list.

“The checkers games. I mean, my brother plays but I beat him in less than five minutes. Robert also plays, but he usually gets to telling some story and we forget about the game. My mom and I were always more for card games, like Poker or Go Fish.”

“An interesting combination.”

“Actually, we came up with our own game once. Borrowed rules from a couple other games, wrote some brand new ones, and had our own game. I could probably still play it.”

“Explains your poker face.”, he teased.

She grinned. Bruce liked it quite a lot when she smiled, grin or a genuine smile of great mirth. Her full cheeks would go rosy, her dark eyes would squint up to almost be slits when she smiled wide enough, and often her shoulders shook slightly with a small accompanying chuckle. Brid smiled often and easily, despite all she had been through in life. He envied her that ability, though he would never do anything to risk diminishing it.

“Bruce?”

“Yes?”

“You did it again.”

“Pardon?”

“Remember, that thing I told you that you do? Where at first, you’re in the moment and with us, enjoying whatever is going on. Then your eyes do this thing… they sort of get less sharp, less engaged, and your face freezes up and you don’t connect or really interact. It’s like you’re a million miles away, locked somewhere vaguely unpleasant. Then, when you come back you seem, I don’t know, a little disoriented for a second. Then it’s like nothing happened.”

He nodded. She had mentioned it a few weeks ago, over lunch at her favorite Greek place. She had been taking him out, her treat, because he had just gotten back from a several-day business trip. It was League business, which she knew, but the cover had been Wayne Enterprises related. The waitress had joked about going to a local theatre to see the black and white Zorro movie. Brid, even with her hearing aids, had not caught enough of the waitress’s joke at the next table, to follow it.

“I forget how astute you can be.”

She smiled sympathetically, shrugging one shoulder.

“I could say Occupational Hazard, but I’m pretty sure it’s a leftover from having been losing my ability to hear the world around me so I learned to pay more attention to what I could see to make up for the lack of audio input. So where were you?”

Bruce considered lying. It came pretty easily. Brid would know, though. She might not be able to say what it was that gave him away, she just seemed to know when he wasn’t being completely honest with her.

“I was thinking how easily you smile.”

She seemed surprised. Then she blushed and looked away again.

“Did you know you always look away whenever someone says or does something to make you blush?”

She nodded, still not-looking at him.

“Yeah.”

Bruce stood, slowly closing the distance between them. At 5’10 and still wearing her boots, he did not loom over Brid the way he did most people. Many considered his height and wide shoulders an intimidating sight, while Brid had never once seemed bothered by it. Even when he was Batman and intentionally looming, she was not at all phased. Granted, upon seeing photos of her family with her, he quickly deduced why. She was the shortest person in her generation with all the boys noticeably taller than her, her own mother and step-father were taller than her, as well as her uncle.

It made him think of one of their first conversations after she learned he was Batman. He had pointed out that most sane people would be freaked out, even frightened of Batman, but that she had not been. Her counter had nearly knocked him flat.

“You’d die to protect someone you didn’t even know, Bruce. I may fear for you sometimes, but I’d never be scared of you.”

She had walked off after she said it, to go help Alfred in the garden. Since then, Bruce had not brought it up again. Now, standing close in the kitchen, Bruce found he was still curious about so many things with Brid. Her dark eyes moved up to meet his own, seeming a bit worried and very much inquisitive.

“Bruce?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Probably making a mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“Kissing your friend usually ends badly.”

She seemed surprised, though she didn’t move away.

“Only if you’re drunk, or unwanted.”

“I’m sober.”

“Good.”

Neither moved for a moment, locked in place, eyes dancing back and forth between meeting and lips. Her one hand moved to his hip, the warmth sinking right into him. He watched her face, reading the myriad of emotions and thoughts running past. She looked at his mouth for a heartbeat before moving back to his eyes as if searching for something. He willed, as he had not willed in an age, for her to see what she needed to see. Part of him, the nobler part, wished she would see something scary and run away. Stay away from him and all the damage he brought with him. The selfish part yearned for her to see whatever would make her close the distance. This had to be her choice.

“Bruce?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t be a fling.”

“I know.”

Her dark eyes seemed to warm a bit, losing the last traces of worry. His heart quickened. Bruce felt her other hand moving first to his waist and then sliding up, slow and gentle, till it rested over his scars. She knew about them. She had seen them while helping bandage him up a few months ago.

“Your heart’s beating fast.”, she whispered.

“So is yours.”, he countered, able to see her pulse point on her neck.

She smiled slightly. Stepping forward, she closed the distance between their bodies, leaving no daylight between them. Bruce tilted his head down only for her to incline her head to meet him in the middle. Tentative lips learned each other. She was inexperienced, he was aware, while he was rusty. Bruce adjusted his angle slightly to deepen the kiss just a little. He cupped her soft, warm cheek in his hand, her hands flattened against his back as she seemed to be gently pulling him closer into her.

They came up for air a moment later, Bruce pressing his forehead to hers. Now that he had gone this far, he did not want to lose contact. Her thumbs rubbed back and forth over his back. She tasted of strong, sweet tea and cinnamon gum. Somehow, he had not expected otherwise.

“You’re important to me, Brid. This was never going to be a fling.”

She smiled up at him even as she lightly bit her lower lip. He could tell she wanted to say something and was holding back.

“It’s your turn to say something.”, he coaxed in a whisper.

“I’m scared.”

He felt himself instantly cool, ready to step back if not for her hands holding him rooted in place.

“Bruce, not that way.”, she added in a rush.

“I’ve been on a few second dates and one horrible third-date. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t want to… screw this up.”

Bruce sagged in relief, leaning to press a soft kiss to her forehead before looking down into her eyes again.

“Don’t worry. We’re far beyond first dates and those awkward dances.”

She smiled slightly, a blush creeping over more than just the apples of her cheeks.

“What do we do next?”

“Whatever we want. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay.”

He nodded, watching her mind whirl.

“That wasn’t me trying to dive into your pants.”

“You wouldn’t fit.”, she teased.

“True. I’m much taller.”

“Bruce, I’m not ready to go home but… I’m not ready to go to your room either.”

“How about the sofa, the fireplace, and that old album you always play whenever you stay over to sit up with Alfred?”

She smiled, nodding.

“I could do that.”

As he stepped to lead the way to the library, her hand slid down his side and into his hand. Their fingers intertwined as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The connection just felt… right. Bruce smiled. All the dancing and dodging, and he had not been able to outrun Brid or his feelings for her. He looked back over his shoulder to see her smiling a quiet, little smile.

“I’m glad you ducked into that hallway.”, she said.

“Me, too.”

Chapter Text

Justice League Jet – One Month After Learning Batman’s Secret

Diana did not like the look of Bruce’s wounds, as Victor flew them back to the Hall. The three of them had been handling an issue with some aliens, and now Victor had to fly because Bruce was bleeding all over the place from the seams of his suit and each of the three of them had a monster of a headache from the sound the alien’s ship made as it left.

“Diana, I promise, it’s not as bad as you think.”

She arched an eyebrow at him before returning her full attention to taking pieces of the suit off, to get to his injuries.

“How far out are we from the Hall?”

Victor answered as they felt the speed change in preparation for the descent down by the Hall of Justice. Bruce’s former home.

“Less than 8 minutes.”

“Good. Alert Alfred we’ll need medical.”

“Already done, but Alfred’s not there.”

“What?”

Bruce cut in, “His great-niece is having a baby any day now, so he is flying to London to help her out when she first comes home.”

Diana smiled.

“That sound like Alfred.”

Diana continued her work as Victor piloted them down into the secret pad for the Jet. It did not take long before they had landed, and the two League members moved to guide Bruce up, then out of the Jet. It was equipped with a medical suite ready to handle almost any injury that might come their way- unless Clark were to be harmed.

Bruce tried to assure them that he was more than capable of walking on his own. Victor looked at Diana, with everyone knowing he could run diagnostics and generally did when one of the team got hurt. Diana shook her head, but gestured for Victor to move so Bruce could just lean on Diana a little.

Meanwhile, over in the kitchen of the Wayne House, Brid was trying to figure out what she ought to fix for dinner. Alfred had warned her that Bruce often came back a bit grumpy and dehydrated, so Alfred tended to shove water and protein at Bruce until he was ‘not quite so grumpy’. Judging by what she was finding in the pantry, she could easily whip up some loaded omelets and a tall glass of water for Bruce.

Brid grabbed everything she needed that wasn’t refrigerated, and lined it up next to the spatula and pan. She rarely cooked and hadn’t made an omelet in probably two or three years. Just as Brid reached for the black pepper, she noticed the light coming on that meant someone had landed the Jet at the Hall.

Brid quickly moved towards the kitchen when she received a short transmission from a voice she didn’t recognize. Male, authoritative, but she guessed younger than Bruce. The voice informed her that they needed the medical unit ready when they got out of the jet. Instantly, Brid’s mind ran wild as her hands shook a bit. She forced a deep breath and grabbed the pass key Alfred had made for her, taking off down to the former Wayne Manor.

Bruce intentionally left the grassy field mostly untouched, the outside of the house still a bit on the dilapidated side. No one would guess this was where the Justice League had their meetings, had spare rooms in case they had to stay over, a lab, their own infirmary, and other assorted rooms for the team to use. Brid swiped the key over the reader at the servants’ entrance and was almost surprised that the door slid away without any trouble. She had half-expected the thing to malfunction simply because she had not used it before and there was an emergency going on. That had always been her experience as a Gotham Cop.

Where the outside looked half-decayed and gray, the inside was gleaming, sleek, and with fancy technology in every corner, like the Enterprise. Brid moved by memory down to what had been the spare study and was now the infirmary. There, she found Cyborg looking at a projected image from his chest, Wonder Woman was standing next to a table trying to help Bruce get his cowl off as he sat up on one of the three exam tables.

“Hello, Ms.O’Hara.”, Cyborg greeted her verbally, his attention still seemingly on the footage in front of him.

“Hello.”, she answered.

Suddenly, Wonder Woman was in front of her. Thanks to Brid still having her heels on from work, she looked the superheroine eye to eye. According to Bruce, they were the same height, though Brid felt very much like she stood in the presence of a goddess. Dark eyes examined her before warming, a smile forming on the Amazon’s kind face.

“Brid O’Hara. Bruce has spoken of you, often. It is good to finally meet you.”, she said as she offered her hand to Brid.

Brid took the offered hand, giving a polite handshake. When had her life gone from arresting thugs to hanging out in the Batcave and shaking hands with members of the Justice League?

“How is Bruce?”

He had told her that they all knew each other’s’ real names and about each other’s’ lives, and that she needn’t worry about hiding his identity from any other members  of the League. Wonder Woman nodded, gesturing with her thumb back to Bruce.

“He was sliced pretty badly by the alien we fought. Three claws, across the chest. He also got tossed around a bit, since he was trying to be a distraction while Victor and I got into position.”

Brid nodded.

“How can I help?”

Wonder Woman smiled again.

“I need to help Victor, but Bruce probably can’t get out of the rest of his suit without assistance, and he’ll need help cleaning and treating his wounds.”

“I can do that.”, Brid answered, already moving towards Bruce.

Bruce, as she and Wonder Woman had been talking, had been working on the closures on the top half of the Batsuit. Brid had not needed to help him out of it before. She was fascinated to see just where the escape hatch was, so to speak. With Wonder Woman off helping Cyborg, Bruce directed Brid on how to assist him and together, they got him down to the bottoms-only, the cape, gloves, top, cowl, and belt sitting aside on a rolling cart.

Once she had him out of most of the suit, Brid wanted to let out a stream of curses at the sight of his chest. Three nasty looking slash marks ran diagonally across his chest from his left shoulder down towards his right hip, a nasty, deep bruise had already formed across his lower right ribs, both of his arms were covered in bruises, the top of his right cheek was sporting another bruise, and he had a bruise across the front of his neck that suggested to her that someone had either pressed a forearm or a boot to Bruce’s neck. She had seen it enough at crime scenes. Particularly domestic disturbance calls.

“You don’t have to stay, Brid.”, Bruce half-whispered to her.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Wayne.”, she fake-growled at him, already moving to clean her hands and get to work on his wounds.

For a while, she could hear Wonder Woman and Cyborg talking back and forth as she worked on Bruce’s injuries. Bruce occasionally coached her through bits of the work. He declined any numbing agents or pain medicine, even when she had to stitch his chest back together where he had been slashed. Alfred had stocked the place with some of the salve she showed him how to make, her own great-grandmother’s recipe. Brid applied some to Bruce’s bruises on his chest, wrapping it after she had covered his cuts, to make sure the salve didn’t get into his wounds.

By the time she was done, Bruce’s torso was almost entirely covered in white, she had discovered a smaller wound to his lower right arm, requiring her to wrap it up, and she had ice packs wrapped over his arms and back to reduce the swelling, and had him holding another ice pack to the side of his face. He looked like he had survived a nasty car accident.

“Sorry you had to see this.”

Brid shook her head.

“What are friends for? Sometimes they find you puking behind a bush at a frat party, other times they stitch your alien-claw-inflicted wounds in a superheroes-only medical area.”

He shook his head at her. Brid had quickly become a good friend, who read him entirely too well, yet Bruce found he was still surprised at the things that would issue from her mouth.

“How is the patient?”, Diana asked as she rejoined them.

Brid moved to put the last bit of gauze away.

“I think he’ll live. Might have to chain him to the bed for a couple days to keep him out of trouble, but he should be alright, I think. The scans don’t show anything worrisome.”

“Good.”, Diana agreed before looking at Bruce, her finger moving to point towards his chest. “Listen to your caretaker here. You will rest and leave the fighting to us for a couple days, Bruce. Victor can handle Gotham for a couple days, and both Clark and I are a shout away if he needs help.”

“Where is Superman?”, Brid asked.

Diana let out a sigh.

“He was in Egypt with Lois today. We didn’t call him away cause we knew we could handle this alien without him. They should return tomorrow night or the following morning, depending on the weather for their flights.”

Brid nodded. Bruce was still a bit stunned at how quickly she had acclimated to being in league with the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman, knowing secret identities and keeping track of their lives, without any trace of shock or being intimidated. Bruce felt guilty about dragging her into this while also feeling guilty for having so underestimated her.

“Bruce, you should get back to the house. Victor and I are done here and will be heading out. Eat something and get some rest.”

He nodded, knowing better than argue. Judging from the slight grin on Diana’s face, she knew saying it in front of Brid would guarantee it happened. Brid walked off to put items back in the cabinets where Alfred instructed her they went, allowing Diana a prime opportunity. One she took. The Amazonian warrior leaned in, speaking to Bruce in a conspiratorial tone.

“Alfred was right. She is lovely.”

Bruce did not get a chance to respond as Diana leaned away and Brid returned, holding out a blue lollipop. Bruce eyed it for a moment.

“What is this?”

“Genius doesn’t recognize a piece of candy? Just how hard did you hit your head?”

“I know what it is. I mean I don’t understand why you’re holding it out to me.”

“You behaved well while getting worked on. Figured you deserved a sucker.”

He heard Diana’s slight chuckle as the warrior walked off, leaving with Victor. Bruce reached, taking the sugary treat from Brid’s hand.

“I didn’t even know these were in here.”

“They weren’t, before. I guess Alfred took my joke seriously, about how come superheroes didn’t get suckers for being well-behaved at the doctor’s office.”

Bruce nodded tiredly, still holding the ice pack to his face with his free hand.

“Come on. I’ll help you get up and we can put some real food in your gut, then you can hit the hay for a bit.”

He didn’t argue. Frankly, he didn’t have the energy. Brid took his elbow, guiding him as he came off the table and made for the side door she had entered through. Bruce wouldn’t have admitted it, except perhaps to Alfred, but he was glad not to be alone after the encounter with the alien. One of the alien’s abilities was to play with your senses, making you see things it plucked from your memory, mirages of the past played out in front of you. Bruce’s mirages had been rough on him and it would be good to have Brid about, with her unshakable optimism and her ability to warm up whatever cold soul she encountered.

~*~*~*~*~

Gotham City – Two Weeks Later

Bruce smiled at Alfred as the older gentleman came up the stairs of the Wayne house. Both moved forward, wrapping each other in a hug reserved for family. Bruce felt the clap on his back from one of Alfred’s hands. Sometimes he could easily forget Alfred wasn’t the 40-something he had been when he had become Bruce’s sole guardian.

Alfred stepped back, looking Bruce over. The bruises were mostly faded from his encounter with the alien that had torn through his armor like butter with it’s sharp talons, though he knew Alfred would see enough to guess what he missed even without the updates Brid had likely provided. The butler sighed.

“How’s the chest and the arm?”

“Healing. How’s the new great-great-niece?”

“Wonderful. Perfect. Beautiful. Everything a baby ought to be.”

Bruce moved, picking up the bulk of Alfred’s luggage. They walked in and headed for Alfred’s room. Upon entering, they found the little package Brid had left on the nightstand, next to a similarly sized item from Diana.

“What’s this?”

“Brid and Diana each felt the new great-great-uncle deserved a gift.”

Alfred looked almost like an overworked mom coming home to find her kids had done her chores for her, unexpectedly. He softly set he bags aside and moved to the bedside table. Diana’s was wrapped in white and silver paper with a pale pink ribbon that had silver baby symbols on it. Brid’s was in yellow with a pink and blue striped ribbon wrapped and tied in a bow.

Closing his eyes with a smile, the man reached blindly and grabbed Diana’s. Carefully unwrapping it, he found a gold charm with a prayer for the new addition to a family, an added bit of love and light in the world. Alfred teared up reading the prayer and the small card in Diana’s own hand. Carefully tucking the card back into the box and putting the gift to stand up on his bookshelf, Alfred moved to Brid’s gift. Again, he was careful untying to bow and opening it to find a pewter frame with moons and stars, with a small note tucked in where the photo ought to be. Bruce read it over Alfred’s shoulder.

For when you have printed out a photo of your new little sweetheart. Congratulations, Alfred. – Love, Brid

A small tear threatened at the corner of Alfred’s right eye. The older man wiped it away with his thumb before placing the little frame next to Diana’s gift on the bookshelf. He looked at both gifts for a long moment.

“I know just the picture I’ll use. It will look perfect next to the prayer and in that frame.”

“Diana and Brid have excellent taste.”, Bruce commented.

“They do.”, Alfred agreed.

“They both love you, so it’s obvious.”, Bruce added with a small grin.

Alfred nodded, holding his chin up and his chest out, though the teary-eyes belied his cheerful teasing.

“So,”, he said as he let out a sigh and looked a bit more himself, “how is everyone?”

They talked, Bruce filling him in, as he helped Alfred get unpacked. The butler had no dirty laundry, never traveling unprepared to land somewhere that had no toothpaste, laundry services, or shaving kits.

“That is about it. Clark and Lois had a good time on their trip, despite the serious nature of it, and they returned safely. For once, no one tried to kill or threaten Lois, so Clark didn’t have to dance that delicate line that comes with his double-identity.”

“That is good. I’m sure Ms.Lane was also relieved. I think the fear of losing him again is worse for her, than it tends to be for Ms.Kent.”

“I can’t argue against that.”

“It is good to see them together, and happy. And Ms.Prince, now that her soldier has returned as is… well, as immortal as her and nearly as hardy as a full Amazon. Mr.Allen is seeing his friend, Mr.Currey has his lovely Atlantian, and… well, then there is you.”

Bruce let out a sigh.

“Not this, again.”

“Yes. This. Again.”

Bruce made an attempt at escape, hoping that would give Alfred a hint. Alfred followed him into the hall and down towards the study. It appeared Bruce’s hint made no dent in Alfred’s determination.

“You deserve to be happy, Master Bruce. And as much as the League aids you and as much as you enjoy their company, and even mine, and for all you get from work and the Batman, it does not make you happy. Not the way Brid does.”

Bruce let out a breath before moving to the fridge, using the door to block Alfred from his sight. He took another slow breath while pretending to seek out a drink.

“Neither of us possess those sort of feelings for one another, Alfred.”, he tried as he brought out a bottle of milk and moved to pour himself a glass.

Alfred looked as if steam might come out his ears or his nostrils.

“When she helped you in Metropolis, as angry and as hurt as you were over losing all those in the Wayne Financial building, you would be better when you talked to her. When you checked in on her, and came back, you were much calmer than when you had left. Then, when you said you wanted to take care of her here since she didn’t have anyone at her apartment or in Gotham, I could see it then. You were starting to really care for her. It was not a noble gesture or some sort of obligation to a friend. When she got shot, protecting your back, you were like a caged anumal till the next time you saw her and knew for sure that she was alright. You made excuses to see her. And when she figured out you were Batman, she didn’t run screaming, she did not blab to anyone, she didn’t try to talk you out of it, she did not call you a madman, and she didn’t shrink away from you – she stuck, she helped, she checked on you, she filled in for me a couple times, including these past two weeks. And considering her job, she’s always going to run the risk of some villain of Gotham coming after someone at her club, while she’s  there, and she had already proven that she is more than capable of handling herself in situations bad enough to warrant Batman showing up.”

Bruce shook his head, the milk forgotten.

“No, Alfred. We’re friends, and that is more than dangerous enough.”

“You’re being Batman is not a death sentence for her.”

Bruce whirled, slamming his hand down on the counter.

“IT CAN BE!”

“No.”, Alfred said calmly, “Yes, you lost Dick. And you are probably never going to stop blaming yourself for it, you were his father and he died fighting someone who wanted to hurt you. It wasn’t your fault, Bruce. Even if you don’t believe that. And he would not want you to sit around here, alone and beating yourself up forever over his death. He loved you, he admired and respected you yes, but he loved you too much to be happy seeing you like this.”

He was too tired for this argument and… he still couldn’t talk about Dick. Even after all this time. Hanging his head as he braced his arms over the counter, he forced out words. He needed Alfred to understand, once and for all.

“She deserves better than an old man with scars mental and physical. She deserves someone who’ll wake up with her every morning, who can be there for her, who isn’t living three lives and juggling the Justice League, the financial future of Gotham, and old ghosts. Not someone who adds to the stress in her life.”

He heard Alfred’s sigh almost as much as he felt the weight of it.

“You are seventeen years her senior, you are not exactly old enough to be her father and then some, the way you make it sound. And as to bringing her stress and worry, well guess what- she already worries about you and stresses over you as things stand now. As for her deserving more than you think yourself capable of offering her, give up being Batman if it means you get her. This city stood for over a century before you were born, Master Bruce. It’ll be here long after your dead. I think you and this whole family, have given enough blood to Gotham for you to be able to rest easy with a woman who loves you as fiercely as you love her.”

Moving closer, Alfred barely had to speak above a whisper to Bruce.

“Master Bruce, she clearly cares for you. All you’re doing is denying her the chance have you really be there. The only one stopping her from having someone there for her, is you. By not-telling her how you feel, by staying in your corner where you can safely self-flagellate in the dark while she stays in her corner, not moving for fear of an overstep and losing her friend who already doesn’t let anyone in. Go. Tell her how you feel. Marry her. Wisk her away someplace. Have some children. Visit Gotham on occasion to see old friends and make sure the house is still standing. Hang up the cowl. Live your life.”

With that, Alfred seemed to deflate. Bruce tried to not to notice the lines and white hairs that had not been there before they lost Dick, before he took up the cowl, before his parents died.

Bruce walked off. He could not feal with this conversation. Brid could do much better than a broken-down man nearly two decades her senior. She deserved a relationship far beyond what Bruce could give her. Brid deserved someone to be there waiting when she came home at 4AM from work, who could swing by to surprise her at work without causing a fuss, who did not have to keep his life in the shadows, who would not leave her lonely and stressed out all the time. Bruce wasn’t that person.

“I’m sorry, Alfred.”

“Thomas Wayne was one of the best men I ever knew. And as much as I have mourned and missed him, I miss your mother more.”

Bruce turned, as confused as he was surprised. Alfred rarely mentioned Thomas or Martha anymore. Not since Dick last asked about them.

“She was the one who could talk sense to the two of you. I used to wish, every night when you first decided to be Batman, that I could channel her ability to reason with Wayne men, so I could talk you out of it. If I can’t talk you out of being Batman, at least let me talk you into not-letting Brid get away? Let that be the one thing I could make you see reason about?”

Piece said, Alfred walked off towards the study and left Bruce at the top of the stairs heading for the Batcave. Bruce moved, letting his head drop backwards into the wall. Images, unbidden, rose in his mind. Images of his parents. Of coming to breakfast to find his father already there, reading the newspaper with an omelet and coffee, greeting Bruce with a hug and smile, only for his mom to drift into the room moments later with Bruce’s breakfast in one hand and a mug of her tea in the other. She would kiss his father’s temple, causing a soft smile on his father’s face before his mom would return her full attention to Bruce.

He could recall coming into his father’s study to ask a question or borrow a book, only to find his father on the one sofa with his mom’s head in his dad’s lap, the two holding each other’s hand as his mom read her book and his father read his CME material. Or the day his father had given his mom a string of pearls for their tenth anniversary and he had gently laid them around her neck, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck after he clasped the necklace. Walking into their bedroom to find his mom straddling his father’s hips, rubbing his shoulders after he had spent hours in surgery trying to save someone, his mom’s voice gentle as she talked about things to take his father’s mind off the stresses of work, the smell of lavender oil filling the air along with his mom’s voice.

The manor had been full of reminders of their love for each other. The paintings his father bought his mother, the books his mom gifted his father with, the string of pearls still in the jewelry box she kept her favorite pieces in- including a macaroni necklace Bruce made her when he was 5, a sweater his mom had given his father for Christmas, even some of their birthday and anniversary cards. As a teenager, Bruce had found it suffocating. Now, he longed to be able to revisit those mementos. No. He longed to have the same thing they had shared.

Alfred was right. Bruce was not happy, not the way his father had been. Saving lives and helping people, as he did both as a surgeon and as a philanthropist, had forfilled a lot of things for his father just as being Batman and what he did with the Wayne finances did for Bruce. What had really made his father happy was what he came home to. When Dick had been alive, Bruce had most of that. He came home to Dick’s noise and messes, Alfred playing the grandfatherly role perfectly, and the three of them being a small, happy family. Since losing his son, Bruce had been hollow. A shell of his former self.

The League, being able to mentor Barry and Victor a bit, having found friendship with Clark and Diana, these had given him back pieces of what he had lost. And, loathe though he was to admit it, Brid had given him back a piece of what he was missing. She made him laugh, she warmed the room just by being in it, the memory of something she said or a factoid she had shared would make him smile days later upon thinking of it, her tendency to just come in and take care of things in that quiet manner she had for caretaking.

Bruce pushed off the wall and went down to the Batcave. He was tired of thinking and it was a Friday. Surely there would be plenty of work for Batman.

~^~^~^~^~

Wayne Manor – Two Years Before The Battle for Metropolis

Bruce shook his head with a small smile, watching Dick getting ready. The boy was attending his first big dance since Bruce had adopted him. It was also a bit of a milestone, due to the traveling nature of the Circus Dick grew up in, he had rarely attended any one school long enough for him to know any other students well, before a dance. This time, Dick had a sweetheart who he intended to ask for several dances before the night was done.

Alfred was helping Dick figure out the one last bit of the slow dance Dick had been working on. Bruce and Alfred were sure the only thing keeping the kid from nailing it right away was his own nervousness. Anyone with his athletic ability and his agility, ought to have little difficulty with slow-dancing.

“What do you think?”

Bruce nodded.

“I think you’ve got it.”

“You’re sure? I thought I messed up the footing there on that last bit.”

“Not at all, though she’s a bit shorter than Alfred, so that will help.”

Alfred nodded, a small smile on his face. Since Dick had become part of their household, and now their family, Alfred seemed to have dropped ten years in age. Bruce was glad to see it. To have some of the light back in his old guardian’s eyes.

“Ready?”, Bruce asked his ward.

Dick nodded.

“I think so.”

Reaching, Bruce straightened the kid’s tie a bit. Because it was a Christmas formal, the boys were all required to wear a bow tie. He had taught Dick how to tie his own but straightening was best done in a mirror or by a second party. The kid looked tall in his new suit. Soon, Bruce was sure the kid would be looking him right in the eyes.

“There. Perfect. Let’s go.”

Alfred watched from the door, smiling as the two went. He was beyond happy to see Bruce now. The man he had finished raising for Martha and Thomas, was now finishing the raising of another orphaned boy, and it had brought Bruce to life in a way nothing else had yet been able to. It did Alfred’s heart good to see their boy so happy, and to see another boy growing into a fine man that Martha and Thomas could have been proud to call their grandson.

The car disappeared into the night and Alfred finally allowed a couple tears to fall. They were not sad tears, though they did hurt just a little. They were born of seeing his charge finally healed up and happy. Fulfilled and with a new purpose. Turning his head to the night sky, he fixed his eyes on a pair of particularly bright stars. His late mother had always said stars were a window down from Heaven, letting the departed catch a glimpse of those they left behind. Tonight, Alfred indulged in such a notion as he looked at the two bright stars in the east sky.

“Thank you.”, he whispered, hoping Thomas and Martha might hear him.

“Thank you for taking care of our boys.”, he added, before turning back to the house. He intended to make a few snacks for he and Bruce to munch on while they waited for it to be time to pick Dick up, and then there would be ice cream of Dick’s favorite flavor, available while they listened to his recounting of the evening. It may have been a long time since Alfred sent a teenager off to a dance, but he still remembered how it went.

~^~^~^~^~

Gotham – Present Day (After Bruce’s Confession to Brid)

Batman patrolled the streets. It was oddly quiet for a Saturday night in the city, though Bruce supposed the snow might have had something to do with that. Even criminals detested having to work in 8in deep snow with a layer of ice beneath most of it.

Bruce decided if he saw no sign of trouble or the Batsignal in the next half-hour, he would pack it in for the night. Alfred would be happy to have him back early for a change. Bruce allowed himself to enjoy some of the decorations as he moved about the city. Thanksgiving was coming soon and the burst of winter weather had hit them three weeks early compared to the usual pattern for Gotham’s first big snow of the season.

One of the family-owned drug stores had already put up their Christmas lights around the windows and front awning, yet they had Thanksgiving themed art in the windows and a fake turkey hanging on the front door to greet customers with a list of sales. The city had already begun hanging the Christmas lights on lampposts, though Bruce knew they would not turn them on till the day after Thanksgiving. He could recall, as a child, his parents taking him out the Friday night following Thanksgiving, to see all the lights. His father, for reasons Bruce had never thought to ask, had always loved Christmas lights dearly.

A small light flashed on his dash a second before the beep that indicated Alfred was calling. Bruce gave the voice command to allow the call through.

“Sir, Mr.Kent and Ms.Lane have arrived and I have been informed that Ms.Stone and his father will be arriving soon, as well as Ms.Prince, Captain Trevor, and Ms.O’Hara.”

Bruce shook his head with a small smile. Alfred was a sneaky one. A pre-Thanksgiving dinner. He would guess that Barry was either working or with Iris, otherwise he would have also attended. Arthur must have opted to spend the holiday with his parents at his father’s lighthouse. Bruce didn’t blame him, seeing how long Arthur had waited to have both his parents around for holidays.

“Give me another twenty minutes and I will turn in.”

“Good, sir. Don’t forget to run under the showerheads before you come up.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t stink up your party.”

“Good.”

With that, Alfred hung up and Bruce smiled. True to his word, he kept watch for another twenty minutes before turning around to return to the Manor. Alfred had been sprucing the place up and now Bruce could be sure the reasoning behind it rather than simply suspecting Alfred was up to something.

It did not take long for Bruce to return, even with the snow. He parked the Batmobile, quickly taking a shower, dressing in a simple pair of dark gray slacks, white shirt, and vest to match the slacks, his tie left behind even though Alfred had left it out for him. He wondered if it was habit or if he thought Bruce would voluntarily slide it around his neck.

As Bruce came up into the kitchen of the house, he found a few pies on a tray and smiled. He could tell he was supposed to take them over to the manor and so he did as Alfred wished of him. A blueberry, a raspberry, and two pumpkin.

It took only a couple minutes to walk over to the old Manor house, now the Hall of Justice for the League to use. The aroma of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, apple pie, cider, sweet tea, and other assorted food stuffs hit Bruce like a tidal wave. He smiled, already knowing what the reaction to the four pies he bore, would be. Clark would slide over, smelling the blueberry from a mile off, Victor would be right behind him for one of the pumpkin, and Diana would smile over in the corner, shaking her head.

As he walked into the League’s kitchen, he was not disappointed, as Clark and Victor slid over quickly and Diana had the reaction he figured. Alfred insisted Bruce put them on a warming table and Steve came over to get the door as is buzzed for another guest. Brid stood there, her own arms full. The former spy and solder moved to pull the door back for her as Alfred and Dr.Stone moved over to her.

“Can I assist you, Ms.O’Hara?”, asked Alfred.

“Just let me know where to put this. I’ve got peanut butter cookies with peanut butter chips, since Bruce assured me there were no peanut allergies here. I’ve also got a homemade blackberry pie, two tubs of Kiral Vanilla ice cream, and I made dark chocolate brownies.”

Diana’s ears perked up.

“Dark chocolate?”

Brid grinned up proudly at the Amazon.

“Bruce told me that you and Lois liked them, so I made two dozen.”

Alfred directed her where to put the cookies, pie, and brownies, while taking the ice cream to put it into the freezer next to the six gallons of vanilla and four gallons of pumpkin pie ice cream that Alfred had gotten from Kiral brand foods. He had also stored away one contained of cookies’n’cream for Brid and one of the caramel swirl for Lois.

As Brid brought her blackberry cobbler over to lay on the warming table, Bruce took an appreciative sniff. Blackberry was a particular favorite of his, for pies and other things.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Brid.”

She shrugged him off.

“What’s a Friendsgiving without a ton of food? Besides, I’m sure there is no guarantee the bunch of you will actually get to enjoy Thanksgiving, so might as well pile on the goodies when you can. And honestly, how often can I brag- even if it’s just to you and Alfred- that I made brownies for an Amazon Princess and a Pulitzer Prize winner?”

“I suppose that is a point.”

She grinned over at him, leaning to press a light kiss to his cheek.

“And I made sure to make my mom’s recipe blackberry cobbler knowing how much you like it, and Alfred told me Arthur is the only other person on the team who really likes it, and he won’t be here. From what I hear, Victor and Steve aren’t going to let those cookies go to waste.”

He was blown away by Brid. She did not cook, and only baked on occasion. Bruce had sampled her baking before and she was quite good at it, she just claimed she rarely had anyone to help her eat the stuff she made and she knew how to make a lot of things she didn’t even eat, such as cobblers and crepes. Bruce tugged her closer for a moment, wrapping his one arm around her and moving his lips to her ear.

“Thank you.”

She smiled, hugging him quickly, before moving to join the group. Steve already had snatched a cookie and was making no secret of how delicious it was. Diana and Lois were discussing a recent news story about an archeological dig in Greece. Victor and his father were sitting at the end of the kitchen table, each with a mug of flavored tea, and Dr.Stone enjoying a piece of peppermint bark that Clark had brought, while Victor was eating a few of the strawberries that Diana and Steve had brought as an appetizer. Alfred disappeared to check on something, as Clark moved over to stand beside Bruce.

“You look happy.”

Bruce nodded.

“Everyone does.”

“Yes, but that isn’t as much of a noteworthy event for most everyone else in this room.”

He couldn’t argue the reporter’s point.

“I’m glad Alfred invited us all over. I know this was his idea, even if everyone else- except Diana- believes it was yours.”

“I think Brid might have helped.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it. I caught she and Alfred sharing a conspiratory look I usually catch my mom and Lois shooting each other.”

“What are you most-looking forward to? The pie?”

“The conversation, all of us together at a table, with Alfred, Brid, Steve, Dr.Stone, and Lois.”

“Next year, tell your mom she’s invited, too. I’ll work on Berry to get him and Iris here, maybe his father if we’re lucky with the lawyers. Diana can work on Arthur.”

“Sounds like a plan. Who knows, by then we might have a bigger team, as well.”

“Might need to lengthen our table then.”

“Bigger tables are a good thing, Bruce.”

“Yes. Yes they are.”

Alfred walked in just then, smiling and holding his arms out to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, dinner is served.”

Lois and Victor cheered a bit, as Brid called, “Happy Friendsgiving!”

Bruce watched as everyone filed out of the kitchen and over to the dining room. To have it once more filled with laughter, good food, and shared company, was more than he had hoped for it to ever have again. Without Alfred having to put up any sort of place cards, each person seemed to find their space.

Clark pulled a chair for Lois, earning him a beaming smile in return, before he sat next to her. Steve pulled a chair for Diana up at one end of the table, taking a seat to her immediate right. Victor and his father sat across from Lois, and Clark. Bruce moved to get Brid’s seat, directly to the right of the head of the table. Alfred disappeared for another moment, waving Bruce towards the head of the table. Just before Bruce could sit, he heard Alfred’s voice.

“Ah, our last guest!”

Martha Kent walked in, wearing a beautiful amber sweater and dark brown slacks, a pair of pies in her arms on a tray along with plates piled with several flavors of cookies. Clark was up in a flash, moving to seat her with he and Lois as Alfred and Bruce took the pies and cookies back to the kitchen.

“You thought of everything, Alfred.”

“I try to, Master Bruce.”

Moving, Bruce wrapped the man in a mighty hug.

“Thank you. For everything.”

He felt Alfred’s arms move to encircle him, tightening.

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

Gotham City- One Year From Now

Bruce adjusted his cuffs once more, as Alfred brought out Brid’s jacket. Judging by the color Alfred had picked, Bruce would guess Brid was going for some darker shades for tonight’s gala. It was meant to give an award to Lois Lane for her hard-hitting well-researched, informative writing over the past several years at the Daily Planet. As owner of the Daily Planet, Bruce was expected to attend.

“I don’t think we’ll be overly late, Alfred. Considering who the organizers are, this party won’t last much past midnight.”

“Thought as much. Master Bruce?”

Bruce looked up, meeting the dark eyes of his oldest friend.

“Have fun tonight. Make sure she does, too.”

Bruce smiled. This would be an easy promise to keep.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it covered.”

Before Bruce could elaborate, he heard Brid coming down the hall. He looked up just in time to see her emerge from around the corner. A tailored pinstriped black suit with matching vest, paired with an amber shirt with a subtle shimmer to it. Three-inch heels gave her a little lift in height, a small black clutch, and her long hair pinned up to the back of her head.

He knew the aim was to imitate Katherine Hepburn’s style. Tall, broad shoulders, with long hair, it worked well for Brid. She looked up at he and Alfred, as if waiting for them to let her know if she wore the wrong thing.

“You look beautiful.”, Alfred told her with a note of fatherly pride.

“Thank you.”

Bruce moved forward, catching her free hand.

“Very beautiful.”, he added before placing a kiss inside her wrist.

Brid shoved her clutch under her arm and reached, fixing his tie.

“Ready to go, Mrs.Wayne?”, Bruce teased.

“I will never get used to people calling me that.”

He heard Alfred chuckle off to the side as Brid finished with Bruce’s tie and collar.

“I’ve tried to remind reporters, Beverly, and others that you are still O’Hara, it just doesn’t appear to make much of a dent. Even when Beverly makes sure, in any official statements from Wayne Enterprises or on behalf of the Wayne family, that you are referred to as Brid O’Hara and not Brid Wayne.”

Brid shrugged a shoulder.

“If the worst thing someone calls me is Mrs.Wayne, I’m having a really good day. Ready?”

He nodded. Alfred brought over her jacket and Bruce pulled it, then his own on. They headed out, with Bruce getting Brid’s door for her. It still made her smile and shake her head at him.

Brid kept up conversation as they drove to the party. It did not take very long, as Metropolis was not far from Gotham. As usual, they got into the short line of cars and their doors were opened for them and a valet came to drive Bruce’s car away as Bruce held out his hand for Brid to take.

The first time Bruce and Brid had gone out as an engaged couple to an event, the fact that they held hands rather than her taking his elbow, had been splashed all over the rag mags and gossip columns in Gotham, Metropolis, and the internet. Brid had been confused as to why anyone cared that The Bruce Wayne held his fiancé’s hand on the way into a party. Alfred had showed her a bunch of photos of Bruce arriving at parties sporting a pretty model type half-hanging from his arm making a show of herself, followed by similar photos of Gotham’s Wealthiest Bachelors with their dates hanging off them, then he showed a picture of Martha and Thomas Wayne arriving at a charity event, with Thomas holding Martha’s hand.

Now, while everyone was mostly accustomed to the ‘old married couple vibe’ the two supposedly gave off, they still drew plenty of attention. Lately, it had been of a new sort. One that made Bruce grind his teeth every time.

As expected, several of the paparazzi swarmed them as they made their way into the party. This event was not one like where Bruce first met Clark, where less legitimate news outlets were not permitted within so many yards to the entry as guests were arriving. The security levels were lower and the budget tighter.

“Mr.Wayne! Mr.Wayne! Will you be handing out any awards personally tonight?”, one woman shouted out as she held out her smart phone to record his response.

Another moved to Brid’s side. Bruce wanted to tuck her into his side, though he knew that was like stomping a hornet’s nest and would only make Brid angry at him for making her out to be a damsel in distress. You could take the woman out of the Police Force, but you couldn’t take the cop out of the woman.

“Mrs.Wayne! When can we expect some baby-Waynes? Do you have any announcements on the horizon?”, the second woman called out, also holding out her smart phone to record Brid’s answer.

Brid, as usual, acted like none of them were there. She did not make eye contact, she did not speak to them, and she didn’t look away from the door they were heading towards. Her posture was tall and determined, her stride quick enough to keep up with Bruce without looking like she was running, and her face neutral. Her training officers would be proud.

A man, from one of the worst gossip magazines in Metropolis, lunged forward far enough that Brid had to side-step him. He didn’t take the hint. The man shoved his smart phone almost directly into Brid’s face as he asked his questions.

“What about rumors that this is a false relationship? Just a PR stunt to make Bruce Wayne look like a reputable family man? Are you a beard? Is this some kind of marriage of convenience? Did you do it for the money?”

Bruce had finally reached his cut off point for the night, with these questions. He moved towards the man, though Brid’s grip held him back enough that he was not directly in the paparazzi’s face. He was still close enough to intimidate.

“Mr.Peterson, if you step into my personal space like that again, I will knock you to the floor. Do you understand me?”

“And if you attempt to impugn my wife’s reputation again, my lawyers will give you so much trouble, your great-grandchildren will be paying legal fees.”

The man nodded, looking struck between surprise and worry. Bruce was aware his height, build, and dark glare were intimidating, even if one had no idea who he was or the army of lawyers he could easily pay to make a person’s life miserable. As such, he knew this would likely have the desired effect of making the paparazzi back off.

Once the jerk had retreated, the encounter filmed by the others in the crowd of paparazzi, Bruce turned back to Brid. She looked like she wanted to bite through steel yet she offered a softer look to Bruce. He gave her his characteristic one-quarter smile, and walked with her through the doors to the building Lois, Clark, and the others would be in.

Within minutes, they were upstairs and mingling with the other guests. Bruce let his hand slip to the small of Brid’s waist as she beamed up at the familiar faces of Diana and Steve. The Amazon Princess and her returned and now-immortal WWI soldier, were settling in quite well.

Steve, Brid, and Lois had made somewhat of their own little inner circle. Bruce was sure at least part of it was that only the three of them could understand what it was like to be attached to the likes of the Justice League members. It was not the same for Arthur, as his lover was an Atlantian as durable as he was, and the others were single.

Steve came right over, giving Brid a quick hug while Diana and Bruce gave each other a nod. Brid hugged Diana once Steve had stepped aside, bringing a wide smile to the Amazon’s face. It never failed to amaze Bruce just how easily Brid had just become a part of the group as if she had always been there.

“You’re late.”, Diana teasingly chided.

“Hit a little traffic at the door.”

That changed her expression in a hurry.

“They do seem more interested in you than the rest of us.”

Bruce shrugged a shoulder. Brid was busy chatting about motorcycles with Steve, allowing Bruce and Diana a chance to talk a bit.

“Speaking of interest, I sent a file for you to look at. I think we may have another potential League member out there.”

“Abilities?”

“Lightening.”

“Lightening?”

Bruce nodded.

“Interesting.”

“I thought so.”

Just then, the announcer stepped to the podium to begin handing out the awards- the biggest being the one going to Lois. Bruce, being as connected as he was, knew that Clark was also going to get an award along with Jenny Olsen. It would entertaining to see Clark’s face when his name was announced.

``*``*``*``*``*``

Gotham City- One Month After Penguin’s Escape

Brid wasn’t a fan of these parties. Especially not when she was a guest of honor. The current Mayor, after what happened at the club, wanted to give Brid and Omar awards for defending the former Mayor. Both agreed they were just doing their jobs.

As Brid walked into the party, she spotted Omar and his girlfriend, off to the right-hand corner of the room. She made a b-line over to them, smiling as she made eye contact. Omar nodded, before gesturing to his girlfriend.

“Angela, this is Brid – my fellow awardee. Brid, Angela- human right attorney, frequent protestor, and amazing girlfriend.”

It was cute of him and seeing Angela’s blush, Brid could understand why he did it. Angela playfully swatted Omar with her black clutch.

“Forgive him, he’s not usually this silly.”

“These dog and pony shows’ll have that effect.”

The three of them chatted a while before Brid felt eyes on her. Turning, she found Detective Gordan coming over. He smiled with a nod. She hadn’t worked too much with him before she was let go, but she knew him well enough through mutual friends and acquaintances.

“Hello.”, he greeted

Brid made the introductions.

“Do you mind if I borrow Ms.O’Hara for a moment?”, Gordon asked.

Omar and Angela nodded, though Omar did look to Brid’s face first. She gave him a slight nod. With all the trips the former Mayor made to the club, Brid and Omar had gotten to be friends and Omar was a man who looked after his friends.

Gordon led the way off to the edge of the room. Carefully, Brid reached and turned up the dial on her new, fancy hearing aids. They adjusted the volume with a quick, double-tap behind her ears, allowing her to turn them up or tap a few extra times to turn them down.

“Aside from our post-incident interviews, I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you since they discharged you, … after Metropolis.”

Brid fought a flinch. Thinking about the madness of that day still had flashes and smells assault Brid’s mind. Gordon seemed to cotton on quickly.

“Sorry.”

She waved him off.

“I just wanted to tell you, I made some calls and so did a couple friends of mine, sergeants and detectives. We tried to find a way to keep you on the force.”

That surprised her.

“Really?”

“You are… were, a good cop. Dependable, good record, well thought of, highly trained. If not for the hearing loss, you would have gone far in the department. Maybe not as far as you would have gone if you hadn’t had an unfortunately strong conscience and had been a little more political.”

She snorted with a nod.

“My training sergeant said the same about my needing to lose the ‘righteous attitude’ and be a little more politically aware.”

“Yeah. Some guys, that’s how they get up in the department. Others are just damn good at their jobs. You’d have been the latter.”

Brid had mostly made her peace with how her life had changed. However, there were days and reminders that she didn’t handle so well.

“Anyway, how are you liking the cushy security job?”

She instantly felt more relaxed, talking about her current employment.

“Great, I actually really enjoy it. Sometimes I feel like security in an old, high stakes casino in 1980s Vegas.”

“Why the 80s?”

“Some of the security, to avoid being hackable, is pre-internet. I mean, they’ve got some amazing high-tech wizardry that Gotham PD would kill to have, but they’ve also got older stuff that’s right up my alley.”

“Well, they were lucky to get you.”

Brid nodded, her mind going to a place she tried to avoid most times anyone mentioned her getting the job she had, or how lucky the club was to have snatched her up.

“Sometimes I wonder if I got the job cause they thought I was that good, or because of a combination of my references and the events at Metropolis.”

Before Brid could elaborate any further for Gordon, she caught Omar waving at her, then pointing to the podium up front. Brid looked. Three men were coming up to speak.

“Looks like the show’s about to start.”

Gordon nodded.

“Knock’em dead.”, he teased as she walked off.

The speaker at the podium, a wealthy Gothamite who was big in pharmaceuticals if Brid recalled correctly, began his speech. He welcomed the guests and reminded them of how well-loved the former mayor had been, as well as some other boring details Brid barely stayed awake for. She had always hated these things and nolonger being a cop, she felt even less inclined to deal with them.

Halfway through his speech, Brid smelled faintly a familiar cologne. Expensive, subtle, with a hint of something that made her think of fine cigars. Bruce.

She looked to her right to see him a few bodies over in the crowd. He gave her the one-quarter smile she swore was programmed into him from birth. Brid smiled back, though more widely.

“And now, please put your hands together for Omar Karim and Brid O’Hara?”

Everyone started to give a polite applause whilst Omar and Brid made their ways up to the stage. An older woman in pearls and designer duds, handed each of them a plaque of wood with a metal plate. Engraved was a message of gratitude and the date of the incident at the club.

The older woman, smiling, gestured towards the podium. She suggested they offer a few words each. Omar gestured with a slight smirk, for Brid to go first. She gave him a vague glare, mindful of where they were.

“Didn’t expect to get one of these.”, she started, holding up the little plaque.

“It’s very nice, thank you. I may be Irish and we’re not known for brevity, but I’ll just say that it’s nice to be recognized for doing your job and having an excuse to bump into old friends outside of that job. Thank you.”

Brid stepped back, with Omar shooting her a smile before he took his turn. She could see the breath he took before he started. It made her think of tricks from her old Public Speaking class.

“Hello.  What Brid said was right, it is nice to get recognized for doing your job, especially when it’s a job you enjoy. Thank you all for coming, and thank you to the Mayor for these shiny awards.”

Both of them walked off, with Omar going right back to Angela’s side. Angela greeted him with a kiss to his cheek, making the bodyguard blush slightly. Brid grinned to herself. They were too cute.

“Nice speech. Did you rehearse it?”

Turning, she raised an eyebrow up at Bruce.

“Snipe.”

He gave a slight shrug of his right shoulder.

“Bored?”, Brid questioned.

“Incredibly. You?”

She let out a sigh.

“I just want to kick off these heels, curl up by a window, watch the rain, and sip some really good hot chocolate. Is that too much for a girl to ask?”

The grin on his face was positively evil. Bruce leaned, whispering as if sharing some great conspiracy.

“What if I were to tell you I planned to sneak out early, and that Alfred has an excellent recipe for hot chocolate?”

“I would say I’m jealous.”

“And if I were to invite you, Ms.O’Hara, to join Alfred and I?”

“I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Lead on.”

Bruce offered her his elbow and they made their way through the room. A few people stared, one even pointed. It was hardly the first time Bruce had left a party early with a beautiful woman on his arm. The beautiful woman being a non-socialite and the guest of honor, however, were new.

“I’ll follow you.”, Brid said as they stepped out to the valet attendant’s booth.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, I can’t leave my car here.”

“True.”

“Don’t worry. My little jeep is good on the rainy road.”

Bruce nodded, and Brid could clearly be seen readying a joke.

“Did you think I rode my bike over?”

“It occurred to me. You are in a pants suit.”

“Always dress up with them. Not sure I’ve even owned a dress since I was… oh, twelve maybe?”

It didn’t surprise Bruce one bit.

“I’ll see you at the house.”, he added as the valet pulled up in the Renegade Brid drove.

Once in his own car, Bruce called Alfred. As expected, his trusty butler answered on the first ring.

“Master Bruce? Is everything alright? There was no Bat signal?”

“Coming home early, and I’m bringing a guest.”

“Oh.”, came the growl, “I’ll prepare your room.”

“No, not that kind of guest, Alfred. Brid. She said she’d rather be home in front of a window with hot chocolate, than standing in her heels, at the dog and pony show, as she described it.”

Alfred’s voice was far more cheerful as he answered.

“I’ll set the chocolate now and grab a spare pair of bedroom slippers for her.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

``*``*``*``*``*``

Gotham City – Lois Lane’s Award Event

Bruce watched as Brid, Steve, and Lois chatted over in one corner of the crowd. It was good to see the Significant Others getting along as well as he, Clark, and Diana. Sometimes, he thought Lois, Steve, and Brid got along even better than any combination of the League members.

Brid caught his eye and subtly Signed at him. She reminded him to smile. He winked.

“Bruce.”, Clark greeted as he walked up beside Bruce.

Bruce inclined his head in greeting. Clark was as dressed up as he ever tended to be for these things. Sometimes Bruce swore he was going to have Alfred figure out a suit for Clark and send it over when Lois was home so she would make sure the man wore it.

“You knew I was getting an award tonight as well, didn’t you?”

Bruce offered a slight smile before sipping his drink. Clark growled.

“Couldn’t’ resist.”

“I’m sure I could have, if I had tried.”

“But more fun to see my face when they announced my name. I get it. Lois found it funny too, and she had gotten a heads up last week.”

Just as Bruce was about to ask Clark a question, he noticed a peculiar look on the man’s face. His head tilted slightly as if tipping his ear to the wind. He’d heard something that the rest of them couldn’t. Bruce knew the look.

“Trouble?”

Clark nodded. Looking out the opposite side, Bruce could see the Batsignal in the clouds.

“Yeah.”

“Two locations. Boilers down by the river and a heist downtown.”

“I’ve got the heist, you take the boiler.”

Clark nodded, already moving to signal Lois. Bruce had barely taken a few steps when Brid came over, holding a hand to her head to message her temple. Bruce reached, concerned at the pinched expression she wore.

“Are you alright?”

Brid leaned closer to whisper.

“Bruce Wayne had to take his wife home, due to her migraine.”

He caught her drift. This was his official excuse for leaving early. Bruce put an arm around the small of her waist, offering polite excuses as they left, sympathetic faces in their wake and the door man rushed to get them to their car, even calling for the valet to bring it quickly.

Bruce tipped the doorman and valet nicely, before sliding Brid into the passenger seat. Once they were out of sight, Bruce could change his suit, and Brid would take the car home. The Batwing was already en route, according to Alfred in Bruce’s ear piece.

“Bruce?”

He looked over at Brid just as they pulled into an empty lane.

“Be careful.”, she offered with a small smile.

Instead of answering, he leaned to place a kiss on her darkly stained lips.

``*``*``*``*``*``

Bruce returned to the house at nearly 4:30 in the morning to find Brid in the library. She had waited up for him. For his part, Bruce took a moment to admire the view.

Stretched out on the leather sofa in an amber and black nightgown that came almost to her ankles, his black robe wrapped around her, her ankles crossed with her bare feet sticking out in striking contrast to the sofa and her attire. Her dark hair was loose over her shoulders, her nose stuck in a thick tome, her abandoned sketch book off to the side on the end table.

“Oil paintings are in the gallery.”

He chuckled at the familiar joke. She had been making it ever since the first time he had come back from a night out with the League, and then stared at her for a couple minutes upon finding her in the garden out back. Brid looked up as she closed her book.

“Still find it interesting that you don’t use bookmarkers, you just memorize which page you’re on, in each book you’re reading.”

She shrugged as she moved her feet off the edge of the cushion and put them to the floor.

“How was the night?”

Bruce moved to sit next to her, weary to his bones.

“Long. When I got done, I went over to help Clark and Diana at the docks. Diana and I scanned and cleared out buildings, Clark handled the actual boiler issue. Sabotage.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know yet, but I expect to by lunch.”

“Good. You gonna get some sleep?”

“In a minute. How was your night?”

“Peaceful.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“No, but I was just starting to get sleepy a few minutes before you came up. I work security at a fancy club that keeps casino hours, remember?”

Bruce nodded. Brid had a point. She was a natural night owl and her choice of career had done nothing to change that for her.

“Sorry we had to hustle out of there.”

Her response was just to wave him off.

“You got all dressed up and we barely got to stay past Clark and Lois getting their awards.”

“It would be nice, just once in a while, not to have to either lose you and make your excuses, or duck out early with you for official League business- instead of just for fu. Like the time you took me back here for hot chocolate and watching the rain fall. Or get to stay long enough to dance one dance.”

Bruce smiled at the memory of hot chocolate by the windows of the living room wall, all three of them sipping Alfred’s best concoction, as they talked about all sorts of things. That evening had been one of the tipping points for him to realize the depth of his feelings for Brid. Then, a thought occurred to him.

Without a word, Bruce moved over to the small record player in the corner. He had planned a particular tune and instead found the album already on the player would serve perfectly. He selected the song he wanted and hit the Play button. A few seconds later, the music gently tickled from the speakers.

At the familiar tinkling, Brid turned back to Bruce with a wide smile. It was one of her favorite songs and a favorite singer. He wouldn’t need to ask twice.

Bruce held out a hand and Brid was up in a heartbeat, taking it. As the singer poured out the romantic tune, Bruce and Brid gently swayed behind the couch in the library. He found it particularly fitting for Brid, especially the part about how she called to him silently.

Brid laid her head against Bruce’s chest, her one hand held in his the other on his back, Bruce’s arm wrapped securely around her back. Alfred smiled from the hall. Changing the tune and some fashion, it looked much like a night many years ago when another pair of Waynes danced in the kitchen to a romantic song Martha was fond of.

It was a relief to Alfred for Bruce to have finally found someone he could share his whole life with, not just the Wayne Enterprises Owner or the Vigilante, but the whole package with all the scars and rough edges. Brid was brave, loyal, caring, and smart. She was Bruce’s equal in ever way and Alfred would be forever grateful that Bruce met her in a hallway at an award ceremony when Bruce and Brid both needed a friend.

With a small smile, Alfred walked off to the kitchen for some tea. He passed a portrait of Martha and Thomas as he came around the corner to the living room.

“Our boy is going to be just fine.”, he said to it as he passed into the kitchen.

“They’ll be just fine.”