Bruce had been sitting on the patio for two hours waiting for Carla to return home. Angelo and Carolina had made a swift exit after finishing their meal and although Alfred was keen to enjoy his wine while catching up with Bruce with marvel flourishing in his red cheeks, Giulia stayed quiet.

It had been just Alfred and Bruce savouring the length of the night until eleven o'clock, by which time the elder decided that it was probably time to go to bed. He encouraged Bruce to do the same though wasn't surprised when he declined, insisting he was staying exactly where he was until Carla came back.

And he did exactly that, not feeling the cold after the temperature dropped thanks to a heater above his head and an anxious bouncing of his knee that kept the blood flowing. There was no breeze and the world felt still as he sat there waiting, barely a sound to be heard besides his own thumping heart.

It was just before one o'clock in the morning when the first whisper of voices broke through the quiet, the sleepiness that had been pulling on his eyes vanishing instantly. His head snapped up and he listened to the conversation on the other side of the gate, though of course didn't understand a word.

The gate opened and then closed again, the smile on Carla's face being wiped away in a split second as soon as she saw Bruce sitting on the patio. They both stayed still for a moment until he rose to his feet, Carla choosing to step over the flowerbeds and walk across the grass instead of follow the path closest to him.

"Carla, wait."

She didn't respond, walking straight towards the door without sparing him another glance.

"Carla!"

She stopped then, angered by him raising his voice and turning to look at him through the soft yellow lights outside her home, the moon a crescent in the black sky behind them.

"I wasn't aware ghosts could shout."

His shoulders sank in dismay and he exhaled with them, taking a few brave steps towards her with a hand desperately outstretched, "Please talk to me, hear me out."

Carla's eyes looked him up and down slowly and she remained expressionless, "I have nothing to say to you."

"That can't be true," he whispered with a shake of his head, continuing to edge closer to her until he could clearly see the emptiness in her eyes, "Surely you want to scream at me, shout in my face, a-and rightly so. I deserve it, I know that."

She stared at him for a long, cold moment and felt the gaping wound in her chest reopen. Carla had almost healed the heartbreak of breaking up with Bruce and the feeling of losing him when it hadn't been a choice was a different feat entirely, one that had all been for nothing.

He was alive and yet some small, selfish part of her wished that he wasn't. And not because she willed for his life to be taken but because she simply couldn't take the pain of him anymore, the pain of his life and of his death, of his love or anything else that his once gentle hands might taint her with.

"When have I ever shouted at you? At anybody?"

Bruce swallowed, stalled at the fact he knew she was absolutely right, "Y-you..."

Carla pursed her lips and nodded, "Goodnight."

She didn't sleep that night and was grateful for the early start the next day, rising from her bed to a view of beautiful sunshine and warmth beating down on her arms as she pushed open the windows in her room.

Carla showered and dressed all without hearing a sound coming from Bruce's room, hoping he'd still be sleeping until after she left. She looked elegant in white linen trousers with a black tank top and a knitted sweater tied across her shoulders incase the sea breeze became a little too chilly, her hair slicked back in a smooth ponytail and her face bare of anything besides mascara, though her eyes were hidden behind a pair of black wayfarers anyway.

She joined Giulia on the patio for a morning coffee and Alfred appeared not long after to sit with them too, the three of them engaging in usual conversation over the breakfast table while being conscious enough to skirt around the elephant in the room.

"Buongiorno, what a perfect day for sailing. Are you looking forward to it, Alfred?"

Cisco was full of life and all smiles when he waltzed through the gate into the sun-drenched garden that morning. He immediately walked over to the table and picked up a croissant from a tray, helping himself to a glass of orange juice.

"It is lovely weather, Francisco, but I think I'm going to stay here today."

Cisco nodded and put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze, "Another time, Captain. Are you ready, farfalla?"

Carla nodded and finished her coffee, picking up her tote bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She kissed Giulia's cheek and Alfred heard her mumble something in Italian, something that Cisco took no notice of but perked his interest nonetheless. She bid goodbye to them both and followed Cisco towards the gate, both of them waving before returning to their conversation.

Bruce had overheard the interaction from the safety of the kitchen. He hadn't intentionally been eavesdropping though when he'd heard Cisco's voice, he decided it was best to stay inside for a little longer.

"Ah, Master Wayne! Come and sit down, the sun is glorious today."

Bruce was grateful for Alfred's kindness but even though Giulia offered him a smile and poured him a glass of fresh juice, he could still sense the discomfort she felt in his presence.

"Thank you," he nodded at her, "You didn't want to go sailing today, Alfred?"

"I'd much rather spend the day with you, Sir. Though I do have some pictures I'd like to show you from last week, let me go and find them."

Alfred scurried off inside to dig out the pictures, leaving Bruce and Giulia alone at the table. The silence was loud and although they'd never really feel uncomfortable with each other, that morning was different. It was almost intimidating for Bruce to even breathe and although he understood that Giulia's anger stemmed from how much she cared for Carla and not directly towards him, he still didn't like it.

"Did you speak to her last night? I know you waited up for her."

Bruce looked up from his coffee as Giulia spoke, offering her a small shrug in response.

"Not really. I tried but she wasn't interested. I can't say I blame her."

"You say you tried," Giulia tilted her head while she sliced up some fruit, "Did you really?"

Bruce furrowed his brow, "Yeah. There's not a lot I can do when she'll barely look at me."

Giulia sat back in her chair, eyes narrowed in thought as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips. She watched Bruce from across the table, assessing the way that he couldn't have looked more different to the man she first met if he'd have tried.

The confidence was gone and his radiance was too, there was no genuine smile or soul in his bones and his eyes didn't sparkle like they once had. He held no excitement for his life and while Giulia knew that was partly because Carla refused to give him the time of day, she felt as though he needed that excitement to capture Carla's attention.

"Did she look at you much at the start, before you knew her? Did she pay you much attention when you first met?"

Bruce scoffed and a grin curved on his lips, "You're kidding, right? I was lucky if she even looked in my direction or said a single word to me, I was convinced she couldn't stand me."

"So how did you get her to fall in love with you?"

He looked down at his hands as his mind retraced over old memories, eyes shaded over with thoughts that he flicked through and even smiled at.

"I just kept trying, I guess. I persisted, I learned what made her smile or at least...what almost made her smile. I had to get past that armour she wears, you know? I always knew there was more to her."

Giulia just smiled, "You know she's not always this cold. She's fierce and warm but you have to ignite that in her, Bruce. Right now, she's so desolate inside nothing will grow, but if you're persistent...who knows, hm?"

Her words left Bruce with a lot to think about and an anxious pit in his stomach as he waited for Carla to come home. He had by no means given up on trying to get though to Carla but Giulia's insight had sparked something else inside of him, not something new, but something old.

Most of the day was spent explaining everything to Alfred, not glazing over a single detail. Giulia had insisted she didn't care for the intricacies, leaving the men alone by the pool while she took a walk into town instead. They appreciated the solitude and for a while after the truth had been shared, it felt like it had done when they'd sit in the gardens of Wayne Manor together before chaos ensued.

They enjoyed the afternoon of sunshine together and bathed in it until the early evening chill arrived, by which time Alfred was keen to help Giulia in the kitchen with the fresh produce she'd bought from the market. Bruce offered his assistance but wasn't taken up on it, being told to do nothing but set the table if he really wanted to help.

And so that's exactly what Bruce was doing when he heard the revving of an engine outside of the gates accompanied with foreign chatter and laughter sprinkled on top, a chorus of voices before the hinges  on the gates creaking made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Carla immediately locked eyes with him the same way she'd done the night before, her cold face sparing him a second of a glance before she took a step over the flowerbeds again to head inside without crossing his path.

That time, Bruce let her go. She disappeared into the house and after thirty minutes he cursed himself for not saying something, only to lose thought of any words to say at all when she pulled out a chair opposite him at the table outside once dinner was ready.

Neither Bruce, Alfred or Giulia had expected Carla to join them for dinner and there was an uncomfortable moment of adjustment for the three of them when she sat down, taking a plate from a stack and setting it down on an empty placemat.

"Did you enjoy sailing today, Doctor?" Alfred cleared his throat before speaking up.

Carla gave him a smile, the first one Bruce had seen in a while and perhaps, he feared, the only one he'd ever see for a long time again.

"Yes, thank you. Though we missed you on the boat, Angelo especially."

"You're all too kind," Alfred chuckled and helped himself to some salad, "And Francisco, how is he getting on fixing up that old Ferrari?"

She nodded before swallowing a mouthful of pasta, sipping on a glass of wine that Bruce had poured for her without receiving any thanks, though that was as close to normal treatment as he'd had since arriving.

"He's almost done. Actually, he told me to tell you that you're welcome to take it for a drive once it's ready. There's a long stretch of road through the mountains that's the perfect place, beautiful views."

"Gosh," he scoffed in disbelief with red tinting his cheeks, "That sounds lovely, tell him I can't wait."

Cisco had never particularly bothered Bruce and if he didn't know about the history he had with Carla, he too probably would've warmed to him as much as Alfred had. Francisco was charming and kind, reliable and selfless, especially when it came to caring for Giulia when she needed it most, and ultimately caring for Carla, too.

It was a good thing she had friends that cared so much about her but Bruce would've been lying if his heart hadn't been ripped out of his chest when he walked into that square the night before and saw Carla dancing with him. The sight was gutting to say the least, like a knife twisting in his back over and over again only for a second blade to stab deeper when he saw Cisco touch her face.

Bruce had never worried about Carla rekindling whatever it was she'd once felt for Cisco, at least not while they'd been building their own relationship. And while part of him still thought that, there was an inescapable sense of dread that she'd slipped through his hands for good, and that Cisco's might've caught her instead.

"It might not compare to a Rolls Royce, Alfred. Just a forewarning."

Carla's head snapped up as soon as the snide comment passed through Bruce's lips. She had not made an effort to look at his face once since sitting down at the table but right then, she met his gaze with fury blitzing through her out of nowhere.

Bruce felt the heat from her stare and had immediate regret over his careless words, knowing they'd come from a place of jealousy that was small yet seemed so powerful in that moment, despising the thought of Carla with anybody else.

She inhaled sharply and kissed her teeth, "If you really thought that, Bruce, maybe you could've bothered to write one into your will for Alfred to have."

Not bothering to stick around to hear what she was confident would've been yet another shameful attempt at playing off his sly words, Carla's chair raked against the patio tiles as she stood up, grabbing her wine glass and storming off inside without saying anything more.

Bruce avoided the questioning stares from Alfred and Giulia and quickly followed in Carla's direction, sighing in regret as he jogged a few steps to catch up with her inside the house.

"Wait, Carla."

"That shade of jealousy doesn't suit you," she said, walking into her room and placing her wineglass down on top of a chest of drawers next to the window.

"It doesn't?" He said, lingering in the doorway, "Would you rather I tell you it makes me sick to think about you with anyone else? That the thought drives me up the wall, near enough insane to think about anybody else touching you?"

Carla scoffed, "You're unbelievable."

"Have you slept with him?"

Her face hardened at his question and the anger set in by way of emptiness shrouding her eyes, jaw tight and features hollow.

"Not that it's anything to do with you, but no. There hasn't been anybody else but even if there had, that would be none of your business since you let me believe you were dead."

The word was spat from her lips like poison and yet her face showed no disgust. She didn't look happy or sad or anything in between and that only made it worse for Bruce. He'd naively thought that seeing hatred from her was the worst sight to behold and yet the sight of nothing seemed to burn far more.

He swallowed his urge to argue and steadied his quickening breaths, tilting his head with a slow fall of his shoulders as his hazel eyes held her gaze six feet across the room.

"I didn't want it to be this way. I didn't want to do what I did but I didn't have a choice, I need you to understand that."

"I'm tired of understanding. I'm tired of agreeing and believing and listening and waiting, I won't do it anymore. You say you didn't have a choice but you did, you always do as long as you're willing to live with the consequences."

Carla shook her head with a broken frown and turned to walk into the bathroom, Bruce's feet carrying him towards her before he realised he was even moving.

"Maybe I made the wrong choice," he called out, voice weak and desperate as his feet hit the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

She looked at him again, backlit by the light of the sun setting through the window behind her, golden shadows drowning the open space in a colour that felt as though it should've been darker.

Bruce had missed her relentlessly. He'd been unable to go a second without thinking of her, without craving her voice and her laugh, the softness of her hair trickling through his fingers or her lips on his skin. He'd missed looking into her dark eyes and seeing something light, he'd missed feeling hopeful because of the love she showered him in and he missed the way she made him feel, the way he never had to pretend to be anybody different.

"Gotham is safe, its people are free and happy and I thought that was what I wanted, but not if this is the consequence. I can't live with this, I can't live knowing that you resent me."

The silence was long and Carla saw the softness glow in his eyes, a pain flickering like a dying candle burning down to the wick.

"You know what it's like to bury the people that you love so I don't know that I'll ever be able to understand why you'd put me through something like that. I grieved and I mourned, I buried you. And it was all for nothing."

The shake of his head was small and his throat burned with upset, "It wasn't...I had to..."

"I don't want to hear it, Bruce. I'm done."

"You don't mean that."

Carla looked down at Bruce's hand gripping her arm, the gap between them closed all of a sudden and the room void of any air, hearts frozen in chests.

His grip was strong at first but he soon loosened it when he realised how tightly he clung to her, pulling his fingers away from the red and white marks on her skin and gently tracing them down to her wrist, yet not being bold enough to take her hand.

"Don't I?" Carla forced herself to say, fighting hard to maintain her level head as her body turned to stardust, pulling her eyes up to confidently meet his.

"No," he breathed scarcely, bones set in steel as he restrained himself against the desire to kiss her perfectly pouted lips.

"I hate you for what you did."

The words hurt Bruce but he took the bullet to the chest and withstood the arrow through his heart without flinching at the pain that engulfed him like flames.

"But?" He bravely suggested with his last breath, fearing her answer before even letting his heart beat again.

Carla had said the but in her mind though had no intention of speaking it out loud. She'd thought it but not confessed it, the notion feeling like a sin as she continued to let her skin be graced by a man that had given her nothing but pain since she last saw him, shivering at his fingers on her wrist but not pushing him away.

"But..." her lips parted and words struggled on the edges of them, her eyes glazed over with tears that Bruce couldn't tell the meaning of. He watched her try and speak but nothing came out, no connection of her heart to her mouth but for once, the silence didn't bother him.

Bruce knew what she was trying to say, what inside of her soul she wanted to say. He saw it melt in her dark eyes and he recognised it in her eternal battle to ever say exactly what was consuming her every thought.

Only his confidence was shattered when Carla snatched her wrist from his fingertips, the sudden coldness a shock to both of them though only their eyes told the other about the pain.

"Nothing," was all she said.