The Way We Fall | Bruce Wayne

CHAPTER 21 - Early Mornings

In the early morning, Sara woke up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare. She inhaled deeply, relieved to find the air clean, though the bedroom unfamiliar. It took a long second for recollection to settle in. Right. She was in Wayne Manor. Safe and sound.

Sara tossed the covers off and pulled back the curtains, revealing a peaceful sunrise. When was the last time she'd seen one unobscured by skyscrapers? Taking a step onto the balcony, she tightened around herself the bath robe that she'd found on the bathroom door.

The cool morning air chilled her nose. Normally, she'd be getting ready for work at this time. A repetitive routine. She had become so accustomed, and even now she felt out of place. Four weeks out of the office was going to be more challenging than restful.

Opening the door to the hallway, a pleasant aroma wafted from the stairwell. It drew her in, and soon she was standing in the dining room. "Good morning, Ms. Carter," Alfred said as he carried a covered tray to the table. She could recognize the scent of bacon anywhere.

"Good morning." She peered over the table at the trays.

"I wouldn't wait on Master Bruce. He wont be awake for the next..." he paused, looking to a clock on the wall. "...Four hours."

"Doesn't he have meetings to attend?" She asked, settling into a chair. So all of a sudden his schedule was cleared.

"Apparently, he's taken a day off. The police sergeant will be taking a visit early this afternoon." He returned to the kitchen momentarily to bring two glasses of orange juice.

"Yeah, he told me last night." Sara yawned. She couldn't blame him for wanting to know more about the arson case. Especially with the target staying in his house. And the unknown suspect still out there.

Alfred lowered his voice as if Bruce could hear, "He could sleep all afternoon if I let him."

She laughed dryly. "Oh, the luxuries of being a billionaire."

"It's not as glamorous as you think." Startled, Sara turned to see Bruce enter the dining room, his socks silent on the polished floor. Shirtless with sweatpants, the sight made her hold in a breath. Sure, she could tell he was fit beneath his shirts, but she hadn't pictured him that well-built.

She looked back to the table, hoping he hadn't noticed her wide eyes. "Do you always eavesdrop on your guests?"

Bruce dropped into the chair beside her at the head of the table. "Only when they're talking about me," he answered groggily. His biceps tensed as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Alfred removed the coverings from the trays, revealing the delicious platters of bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, and muffins. "Is this what you have for breakfast every morning?" Her wide-eyed gaze was drawn away from Bruce, landing instead on the delicacies. It's a wonder he could keep his physique.

"I figured you'd enjoy a nice, hearty breakfast. And Master Bruce could afford a break from his usual smoothies, isn't that right?" Alfred looked to his young master, who was still half-asleep.

"Just this once," Bruce mumbled, reaching over his plate for a slice of toast.

As his arm outstretched, Sara noticed the deep bruise that discolored his right shoulder.

"How'd you get that?" She gestured to the black-and-blue.

He looked at his shoulder as if he'd forgotten it was even there. "Remember what I said about rock climbing?" He stuck the toast in his mouth and rubbed at the bruise with his free hand.

"Maybe you should consider taking up something less... extreme." She looked away from his bare, broad shoulder and back to the food that Alfred served into her plate.

"I tell him that all the time, miss," Alfred added before disappearing into the kitchen.

Bruce yawned before taking a sip of juice. Clearly he had no intention of divulging whatever incident had caused the injury. Small strands of his hair sloppily fell over his forehead. Not exactly the image she'd always had of the richest man in Gotham.

Sara returned her focus to her breakfast. They ate in silence for a while.

"How was your sleep?" Bruce asked between bites, trying to spark up conversation again.

"The burns still hurt a bit, but I can finally breathe easier," she answered, not meeting his gaze.

"I asked about your sleep, not about your injuries."

Sara thought back to the nightmares. The smoke and fire. The GCPD and the masked vigilante. "Probably the best sleep I've had in my life," she lied. "I've never had a mattress that comfortable."

She could feel his studying gaze, the way he searched her expression. Looking for a discrepancy he was positive would be there.

"I heard screaming last night," Bruce said at last, causing her to freeze.

She turned to him now, his eyes filled less of concern and more of understanding.

"When I came to see what was going on, you were sound asleep," he continued solemnly. Familiarity reflected back in his eyes as if he was reliving a memory. "Nightmares... they're no joke."

The nightmares in question only morphed into torture each night. Forcing her to relive the experience, and pulling her further into guilt.

If only he knew.

Sara took a sip of her orange juice to soothe her throat that went dry. "I'm sorry I woke you," she said stiffly.

He probably expected her to open up about it, to seek solace in his understanding. Bruce only blinked at her response.

Sara made it clear that she had no interest in his consolation.