The Way We Fall | Bruce Wayne

CHAPTER 33 - Confusion

Sara's eyes blinked against the light that poured in from a window. Her mind felt foggy and her head pounded, sensitive to the light.

It took a few long moments for her to recognize where she was, but the peaceful bird song entering through the open window eased her conscious only slightly. She was in her room again, at Wayne Manor. The sweet singing alone couldn't ease her nerves that wreaked havoc within her. She felt afraid, but she didn't know why or of what.

Turning her head ever so slightly to the other side of the room, she saw Alfred stand from a chair and call out from the door. "Master Wayne!"

Bruce came rushing down the hall, practically sliding across the floor in his socks as he came to a halt in the doorway.

"She's awake," Alfred said, relief heavy in his voice.

Sara only looked at them, puzzled. It felt like she'd woken up from another nightmare, but it was one she couldn't recall. And the terror was still fresh in her mind.

She watched as Bruce entered the room, and as he sat slowly on the side of her bed, she saw him flinch as if in pain. He managed a lopsided grin. By now, she could recognize when he forced a smile. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

She only said, "What happened?"

His eyes flickered from relief to wariness, then to concern and sadness. "You don't remember?"

If I did, I wouldn't be asking you. Sara tried to recall the events leading up to waking up back in the bedroom, but drew blank. The foggy memory added to the weight of her already frightened mind. What could she last remember?

Sergeant Gordon. The metal lock box. Her suit. She could feel her heart beat faster within her chest. The suit. Sara didn't know what had become of it. Looking at the two gentlemen in alarm, she feared they would have discovered it. Though they made no suggestion. But her question still remained unanswered.

"I can't," she muttered in reply. Sweat formed at her brow. "How long have I been asleep?"

Bruce and Alfred exchanged a concerned look. Neither answered immediately.

"A while," Bruce said vaguely. He stood up, slowly.

She shuddered when his hand touched her forehead as if feeling for a temperature. He noticed the fear.

"Temporary retrograde amnesia is typical, nothing for you to worry about, alright?"

Nothing to worry about? An unknown cause for memory loss was a very valid cause for worry. "What happened?" She repeated, the fear accumulating as a lump in her throat.

Alfred cut in, "After dinner last night, you took a fancy to a selection of imported wines. And I dare say you may have overdone it."

Bruce looked to him, then back to her, and nodded in agreement.

Sara wasn't entirely convinced. "I was just drunk?" It was an easier explanation, but difficult to believe.

"Wasted," Bruce corrected. "Which is why the booze is off limits for you now." He smiled softly, though not quite sincerely.

"Then why can't I remember any of it?"

"It's not uncommon, Ms. Carter," Alfred said with reassurance. "I've seen even Gotham's finest knock themselves out and then not remember a bloody thing."

"Very comforting, Alfred," she groaned.

Bruce began to follow Alfred out the door when she spoke up again. "Wait." The story they told didn't do much to ease her nerves, and the last thing she wanted was to be left alone so soon.

Bruce paused, turning back to her.

She waved a hand for him to return. "What's happened to you?" She gestured to his side that he'd been nursing as he moved.

He carefully sat on the end of the bed again, cautious as if every movement caused him pain. She saw his eyes fill with sorrow, which at first could've been attributed to his discomfort. Though she wasn't so sure. "Would you believe me if I told you I've taken up playing polo?"

"Not a chance." Sure, she would've never have guessed his other activities, but polo was a stretch. "I thought you were into more extreme stuff. You know, rock climbing, spelunking..." She gave a wary smile.

He dropped his head down and sighed in defeat. "Okay, you're right. I was out cave diving this morning, and let's just say I misstepped," he said, holding his side with a hand as if nursing it, or hiding it. Then he added, whispering, "Don't talk to Alfred about it. He already hates my hobbies."

"I don't blame him." Sara looked him up and down. He was different. Something in his demeanor had changed. But she wasn't sure if it was just the paranoia still lingering in her head. "You should go see a doctor."

Bruce shook his head defiantly. "I'm fine. It's just a fresh bruise." He looked away from her now, and grunted as he stood, "Hurts like hell, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

She noticed his troubled tone, which she figured could be courtesy of the pain in his side. "Maybe you should look for a new hobby. I hear chess is fun."

The corner of his mouth upturned in a smile, though he wouldn't look at her. "I don't think I have the patience for chess."

"Well, I'd personally recommend baking, but I doubt Alfred will let you within ten feet of his kitchen."

She got a chuckle from him that time. He glanced at her only as he began to leave the room. "Get some more rest."

Sara watched as he left the room, shutting the door behind him. The fear resurfaced as she laid in the silent room. Aside from a throbbing headache, she didn't feel hungover. Not even nauseated.

It all didn't sit right with her. To think that they would lie only made her worry even the more. Eventually the 'temporary amnesia' would pass, and she'd get answers. Though Sara wasn't sure she wanted them.