The Way We Fall | Bruce Wayne

CHAPTER 35 - Midnight

Dinner was awkward and uncomfortable to say the least. Sara was convinced she must have said or done something foolish the night before. Alcohol could turn her into a babbling moron.

Yet Bruce didn't seem only distant. His gaze was also clouded and sad, but when she addressed it, he spoke as if nothing significant happened. It didn't take a genius to know that something was wrong. And he was bad at hiding it.

Alfred answered any questions vaguely also. Could she have revealed something in her presumably drunken state? She couldn't shake the sinking feeling that she had.

Holding her warm cup of coffee close, she decided to retire to her room.

Sara laid on her side, staring at the sky beyond the bedroom window. Stars shone against the backdrop of darkness.

She found herself counting the stars, then mentally tracing them to envision the constellations. Sleep had decided her evade her now, she came to that realization the longer she remained staring at the stars. She supposed that the extended midday nap had robbed her of a good night's sleep.

With a sigh, she tossed off the covers and looked to the clock on the nightstand. Somehow two hours had already passed, and she was still restless.

Sara opened the balcony door and was greeted by the cold night air. From where she stood, she could faintly see the moonlight glistening on the stream that cut through the garden. Now that Bruce and Alfred were likely asleep, could she take a walk undisturbed? Physically, she felt up to it. It'd do her some good.

So she changed into a warm sweater, jeans, and a jacket. She opened and shut the bedroom door slowly as to not cause any disturbance before she quietly descended the grand staircase.

A few lights were left on every night, just enough to be able to navigate through the enormous manor. She recalled a back door in the kitchen and decided to use that instead of the front.

Just as she was walking toward the kitchen, a startling voice made her freeze.

"Going somewhere?"

She turned to see Bruce in a white t-shirt, pajama pants, and a robe, holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"You have to stop sneaking up on me like this," she said as if he wasn't looking at her with raised brows and an amused glare. "Can't sleep either?"

"Didn't you learn the last time you decided to take a midnight stroll?"

Sara crossed her arms and rolled her eyes like a stubborn teenager who just got caught sneaking out. "I was fine. You were the one ending up with a punch to the gut."

He put the mug down on a countertop. "And you are the one who's supposed to be lying low."

"Sue me. I need fresh air before I go insane. I'll be fine." She continued for the door.

Bruce stood there for a moment in consideration. "Hold on."

Hand on the door handle, she turned her head. She watched him untie his robe as he departed the kitchen and then return with a jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" He shrugged the jacket on.

Sara stepped outside, followed by Bruce, muttering, "Didn't know I'd need a bodyguard, too."

The banter had relieved her tension temporarily. It began to rise again as they walked toward the garden. She noticed an awkwardness in his step. Not a limp, rather he took shorter, slower strides.