Dr. Leslie Thompkins

Alfred turns around at last, that stern expression still in place. "Master Bruce, go to your room."

From:

Selina sighs softly and closes her eyes. The urge just to go back to sleep is powerful. As much as she'd like to fight this fight, really, there isn't much in her to do it right this moment.

From:

He's never been any good at taking orders. Even when he knows they're for his own benefit. And hers.

"Five minutes," he counters.

From:

"Three," counters the butler.

From:

"Four."

From:

lesliethompkins.livejournal.com

Leslie shakes her head in exasperated disbelief. In no position to bargain and yet he persists.

From:

Selina smiles faintly at the bargaining, eyes still closed.

From:

"Three," repeats Alfred. "Breach that limit and I shall remove you from this room by physical force."

From:

He considers Alfred's words seriously, knowing full well he'll make good on the threat. In perhaps the wisest decision he's made these past few minutes, Bruce decides to cut his loses.

"Fine," he concedes.

From:

"Thank you."

Her voice is soft but intent.

From:

lesliethompkins.livejournal.com

Leslie's gaze falls on Selina and for a brief moment she wonders if their protectiveness has done more harm than good. She places a hand on the edge of the door, her intent clear. She's going to step out and give them their three minutes of privacy.

"I'm going to go check on Holly," she announces. Before leaving, she delivers a look in Alfred's direction. She hopes he'll follow her out.

From:

Alfred gives Selina and Bruce a sad look and a haughty sniff, as appropriate, then follows Dr. Thompkins out the door.

From:

He waits motionlessly until they're both gone from the room before moving to the bedside chair. He lowers himself into it slowly, taking care not to make contact with the backrest.

From:

Selina follows his motion with her eyes as rolling over right now is pretty much physically impossible.

From:

He simply watches her and she watches him.

How much of their precious three minutes will he waste in silence?

From:

Selina swallows visibly, trying to think of what to say. While she doesn't assume that there will be condemnation, she's still waiting for it.

From:

His thoughts, so often organized and compartmentalized, are in shambles. They shift from past to present, from the Joker to Black Mask, from himself to Selina. Parallels are drawn and broken, reassembles and pulled apart.

"Why didn't you do it?"

From:

"I'm still not sure."

Her voice is layered with emotions and she sounds very tired. "Next time he's not going to toy with me. He'll just start killing people."

From:

Perhaps someday including her. The thought can't be stopped, pushed away, or forced into submission.

His hands curl into fists and the muscles in his jaw harden.

From:

Carefully, she lifts a hand and reaches it out to him.

From:

Her touch has a way of softening his anger. He isn't entirely sure at first he wants his anger to fade. Anger fuels. Anger focuses. Anger covers all aches and pains.

His hand eventually finds hers.

He holds it tight.

From:

"This is where we live."

The awkwardness, the uncertainty, the waiting for something horrible to happen, catching moments of brilliance and hope in the midst of it all.

From:

Simple words. Meaningfully deep. Understood and perhaps appreciated more than she'll ever know.

He drops his gaze and whispers softly. "And when we're not here? Where are we?"

From:

"Together."

It is a word that escapes her before she realizes the shape of it, what it means, the weight it will hold. It makes her want to look away from him, in a small moment of irony.

From: