Just Breathe

Chapter 8

Bruce knocked on the door of Beth's apartment.

He'd briefly debated climbing the fire escape and going to her window like usual. But that entrance was for the Bat.

He was here as Bruce tonight.

And that dichotomy was a new - and strange - concept to him.

Before Beth had entered his life, he'd never thought about there being a difference between who he was in and out of his suit. And perhaps he'd never be able to fully differentiate the two - his motivation to become Gotham's vigilante formed such an integral part of his personality - but he was starting to see the possibility of life beyond his mission.

The first hint came earlier this evening, when he'd been struck by the desire to see Beth...and hadn't fought the impulse. He hadn't even paused to debate if it was the prudent thing to do, he'd just grabbed his stuff and hopped on his bike.

The second hint came when he decided to come dressed as himself. For some reason, it just hadn't felt right to face her from behind his mask.

So he was kitted out in what he referred to as his 'incognito' look - a hoodie, jacket and a pair of tattered jeans. The suit was still with him, of course, stashed in the backback he carried over one shoulder, ready for the darkness he operated in to descend. But he sometimes liked to spend time wandering Gotham dressed like this. He needed to be in the city. Gotham was like a living organism. It had character; it had moods. He had to walk inside it, amongst it, to gauge its temperament. To feel the ebb and flow of the dark, violent currents.

He needed to be a part of Gotham, just like Gotham was a part of him.

But he did it all in secret.

Standing here in this hallway, under the bright fluorescent lights, his identity known to the person on the other side of the door...left him feeling oddly vulnerable and exposed.

Just as he was debating leaving, the door swung open, revealing Beth. She looked annoyed for a moment, before a smile broke over her face. "It's you."

The anxiety that had been building from the moment he knocked melted away with that smile.

Gotham was not a part of Beth.

She'd made it her home, but she didn't bear its marks. She didn't have the cold cynicism that infected its wealthier denizens. Nor the bitterness and weariness of the less fortunate. She was sunshine and light in this sombre place.

"I didn't recognise you for a second," Beth said ushering him in. "Without the war paint."

"I'm sorry-," he started unsure how to explain his presence on her doorstep. He hadn't come up with a valid excuse...

Luckily, he didn't seem to need one.

"You need to stop apologising every time you come here - you'll give me a complex. We're friends, right? I mean, after the other night, it feels like we're friends now. And I don't really know from experience, but I hear that friends drop by whenever they want..." She ended her slightly rambling statement with a blush. He was relieved to see she was feeling as uncertain as he was with their new...relationship.

"I've heard that somewhere too," he replied, trying to put her at ease.

She smiled. "Good. So is this a social call, or do you need help with something?"

"Um, I guess its a social call."

Her smile widened. "Even better. Take a seat and I'll make us some coffee."

He perched on the edge of her couch, his hands clasped between his knees, and watched her flit about her kitchen. The stereo was on low, and she hummed along as she fixed the cups and boiled the water.