Just Breathe

Chapter 21

Bruce,

Thank you for all you've done for me.

You offered me a place of safety when my life was in danger; you rescued me when I was trapped. But more than that, you gave me a home and a place to be myself. You accepted me without judgement or fear, and loved me for who I am - I'll always be grateful for that. It was an amazing gift for someone who has always felt so alone.

But we were not to be. I understand the reasons why. And though we only had a short time together, that doesn't make it any less precious. It was ephemeral, but beautiful. Just...not meant to be.

Our stars were crossed, and not aligned.

No, that's not right.

'Star-crossed' implies that our paths will forever diverge, leading us farther and farther away, until we're distant memories to each other...

I prefer to think of us as binary stars - drawn together by the unknowable universe, revolving around each other, but never able to bridge the distance.

Do you know that for most known binary systems only one star is visible? That lone star seems to dance around an empty space, and the presence of the unseen companion can only be inferred by its influence on gravity.

That's how I think of us. You changed by orbit, and altered my gravity.

You'll be my companion for the rest of my life. The one I dance with, unseen, forever.

I love you.

Goodbye.

Bruce carefully re-folded the letter.

It was foolish to carry around a note addressed to 'Bruce' on 'Wayne' family headed paper when he was dressed as his alter ego...but he couldn't seem to leave it behind when he left the tower tonight.

He'd read and re-read it so many times over the past three days, he could recite the words by heart; but still, he couldn't leave it behind.

He needed it with him.

He tried to smooth out the creases marring the thick white paper, but the marks remained from where he'd crumpled the note on first finding it.

He'd returned from the raid on Connell's compound feeling battered and sore from the fight that had broken out. Connell hadn't gone down easy; he'd barricaded himself in his study, leaving his goons to battle it out with the federal agents and SWAT teams. Bruce had helped, in a controlled rampage through the mansion that echoed the one from the week before.

But this time, when he reached Connell's study, the criminal mastermind was too busy shredding incriminating evidence to bother arming himself with a gas-filled shot gun.

Bruce had taken him down easily and handed him over to the authorities - who found enough in that study alone to indict him on several federal charges.

Connell's planned takeover of Gotham had failed before it even got started.

So Bruce had come home feeling sore to his bones, but with a lightness in his soul and anticipation surging through his veins. He'd jogged up the stairs towards Beth's bedroom, ignoring the twinges of pain in his knees, eager to see her.

To pick up where they'd left off.

To start their lives, finally free from Newsome, her father and Connell.

But when he'd cracked open her door, all traces of her were gone. The gentle light of the sunrise spilling into her room illuminated her absence. The clothes she usually left hanging over the chair of the dresser were gone; her makeup...gone. The charger plugged into the wall...gone. The books on the bedside table...gone.