"...Lieutenant Gordon gave us some info about this Jimmy Summers. Apparently he's working for a major new organisation in town. Jimmy doesn't know who's in charge, but he gave up the location of a warehouse they were using to manufacture the gas. Bruce went to scope it out, but it was abandoned by the time he got there. So we've been digging into the financials, trying to work out who owns it..."

Bruce was only half listening to Alfred as he brought Beth up to speed on the case. His thoughts were still on what had happened on the rooftop.

Or what had almost happened.

He had almost kissed Beth.

He could blame it on his sleep deprivation. He could blame it on seeing more of her skin than he ever had before. He could blame it on the romantic setting - alone on a rooftop, with the lights of the cityscape twinkling below them...

But the truth was...he just wanted to kiss her. The circumstances were irrelevant. He was with the woman he was insanely attracted to, the woman he cared about...and he wanted to kiss her.

For that one moment, all the reasons why touching her was a bad idea were buried and forgotten under the shear weight of his desire to press his lips against hers.

And she hadn't pulled away.

That was the part he was fixated on.

He'd made his intentions clear...and she hadn't pulled away.

"-layers of shell corporations, one of which I managed to trace to Royston Connell. He-"

The name pulled Bruce from his introspection. "Wait, did you say Royston Connell?" he asked.

Alfred paused in the action of shuffling through the documents in front of him. "You know him?"

"I know the name. Mayor Reál mentioned it at our last meeting. He's relatively new to Gotham but he's making a big splash in elite circles. Throwing around a lot of cash at benefits, buying up real estate, donating to political campaigns, that kind of thing."

"So this warehouse purchase could be legit - just part of him expanding his portfolio. But somehow it fell into the wrong hands."

Bruce tugged at his lip as he considered the possibilities. "Or he's buying legitimacy. Maybe he's looking to move in on Falcone's old territory, but he needs to establish himself in the city first. Give himself some protection."

"That's a big leap," Beth added. Bruce glanced over to her. Her cheeks were still rosy from the cool evening air and he watched as the colour deepened into a blush under his gaze.

She glanced away and he turned his attention back to Alfred. "We need more intel. You keep digging and I'll go check out Connell's place."

"Be careful, Bruce. If the Batman is caught investigating one of Gotham's inner circle - and he's innocent - it could cause problems."

Bruce nodded and pushed his chair back from the table. He was eager to get suited up and hit the streets. His eyes met Beth's again, and he paused, unsure what to say. "I'll see you tomorrow," he eventually said. "And we'll...talk."

She bit her lip, then nodded. "Be careful," she said, echoing Alfred's request.

———

"No."

"Yes."

"No," Bruce repeated. "I won't let you do it."

"You wont let me?" Beth replied, her eyebrow raised.

Their promised talk was not going to plan. Or, rather, it wasn't happening at all. Instead they were arguing about the next steps in the scheme to uncover Royston Connell's secrets.

Alfred had unearthed several more properties purchased through shell companies, but no evidence to indicate Connell was crooked.

Bruce had had even less luck.

He'd found Connell's compound, located on the outskirts of Gotham, not too far from the old Wayne Manor. It was one of several grand estates in the area that were home to Gotham's wealthiest citizens.

Its wealthiest and most paranoid citizens.

The security around Connell's mansion was tight. Too tight - with motion sensors, security cameras, guard dogs and patrolling sentries.

It was a fortress.

Which made Bruce suspicious, but which could also just be a sign of a billionaire guarding his assets. He'd taken Alfred's advice and not tried to infiltrate, in case it back-fired against Batman.

Which left plan B.

A party was being hosted that night by the Kane's - one of Gotham's premier families - at their estate outside the city. If Connell was really looking to ingratiate himself with the elite of the city, he would be in attendance - along with the rest of Gotham's glitterati.

It was Alfred's idea for Bruce to be one of them. "You can get closer to him as Bruce Wayne than Batman ever could. And it would get you seen out in public again. Two birds, one stone."

Beth had piped up at that. "I'm confused. What's the other bird?"

"When Batman's identity was at risk, we came up with a plan to rehabilitate his public persona," Alfred explained. "To put as much distance between the vigilante and Bruce Wayne as possible. So I've been making him socialise and go on dates to boost his image."

Beth whipped her head around to stare at Bruce. "So that's why..." She suddenly burst out laughing.

Bruce stared at her, relishing a sound that he hadn't heard in too long. The mirth brought a sparkle to her eyes and she shook her head in amusement. "Wow, you must have really hated whoever sent you that letter and forced you to leave the house."

He raised his eyebrow at her. "You could say that."

"I'm sorry," she said, not sounding apologetic in the least.

They stared at each other a beat longer, both smiling.

"Ahem," Alfred said, interrupting them. They broke eye contact at the same time and faced the older man. "So am I to press your tuxedo for tonight, Master Wayne?" he asked formally.

Bruce responded in turn. "Yes, thank you Alfred."

"What about me?" Beth asked.

Alfred frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"I should come too," she replied. She wriggled her bare fingers. "I can find out everything you need to know about Connell in minutes. No subterfuge needed."

And with that, the argument began.

"No."

"Yes."

"No," Bruce repeated. "I won't let you do it."

"You wont let me?" Beth replied, her eyebrow raised.

"Did you forget how this whole thing started in the first place?" Bruce asked, gesturing to her presence in Wayne Tower.

"No, but I don't regret it. I would do it all over again to save that girl's life."

"I can't put you in the crosshairs of another psychopath."

"But we don't even know he's a psychopath. That's the whole point. We need to either confirm he's a crook or eliminate him so we can move on to someone else. I can do that with one touch."

Bruce shook his head, his entire being rebelling against the thought of her putting herself in danger again. At the thought of her touching someone potentially evil.

At the thought of her leaving the sanctuary of the tower, where no one knew where she was...and where no one could get to her.

Bruce winced internally as he realised that Alfred was right. He hated the thought of her ever venturing out into the world again, where she was vulnerable and unprotected.

But that wasn't fair to her. She couldn't stay locked away up here forever, like a princess trapped in a tower.

She echoed his thoughts. "I'm going stir crazy in here, anyway. It will be nice to get out for a night."

"It's not a bad idea," Alfred mused.

Bruce glared at him. "We can't ask her to do this."

"No one's asking me," Beth said. "I'm volunteering. I want to do this. Please, let me help."

———

It was easy to be brave in the abstract.

But sitting in the limo outside the Kane mansion, moments from kicking off the plan, Beth was starting to feel a little trepidation.

It was the dress, she decided.

Or rather, the skin that wasn't covered by the dress.

She'd never - in her life - worn something so revealing, and she'd spent the entire thirty minute car ride regretting it.

Alfred had arranged for a rack of dresses from Gotham's most renowned fashion designer to be delivered to Wayne Tower - the perks of working for an infamous billionaire - and Beth had chosen the sexiest one. She needed to catch Connell's eye in a sea of rich, beautiful socialites, so she'd opted for a fire-engine red, halter-neck gown that was cut low in the front and very low in the back.

Alfred met her eyes in the rear view mirror and misinterpreted her nervous expression. "You look beautiful, Beth. Connell's bound to notice you."

That wasn't the cause of her nerves. She was worried about her skin. A tap on the shoulder, a bump from behind...there were so many ways for people to touch her tonight and she would be powerless to stop their thoughts from intruding.

"Bruce should be arriving soon and he'll keep an eye on you," Alfred continued. "And as soon as you get the information, come right back here and I'll drive you home."

Beth gave him a tight smile, grateful to Alfred and his reassurances - even if he never addressed the issue that worried her the most. But if she mentioned it to him, he would call the whole thing off.

And she wanted to help.

She wanted to keep Bruce safe by getting that gas off the streets.

She took a deep breath and grasped the door handle. "Wish me luck," she said, about to push open the door.

"Wait," he called, before exiting the vehicle. He came around to her door and opened it, offering her his hand. "You need to keep up appearances," he advised under his breath. "Don't give anyone a reason to doubt your credentials. Act like you belong."

She gave him a quick nod, before striding to the main entrance where she presented her forged invitation with a haughty glance at the poor member of staff manning the guest list.

Bruce Wayne would be able to enter tonight based on nothing but his name.

She needed a bit of subterfuge.

She was soon waved inside and ushered to the ballroom, where she could hear the celebration in full swing. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the party.

And the moment she did so, she felt a million eyes turn in her direction and stare. Squashing her natural inclination to slink off to the nearest dark recess and hide, she straightened her spine, lifted her chin and glided towards the bar.

She could feel those eyes raking over the exposed skin of her back...but maybe it was her imagination. Glancing around, there were women present who were equally as daring - some more so - in their fashion choices. And they all glittered with jewels that dripped from their necks and wrists.

She probably looked plain in comparison.

She lifted a glass of champagne from the edge of the bar and turned to take in the scene properly. Money and power saturated the room. She spotted the Mayor by the dance floor talking to the Governor of the state. An A-list movie star held court in the corner, surrounded by fawning admirers. The who's-who of Gotham were in attendance, and she felt completely out of place.

But she wasn't the only one.

Bruce entered the room at that moment, looking handsome as hell in his tuxedo, with his messy dark hair tamed into a sleek swept-back style...but his shoulders were hunched and his eyes darted around warily.

He looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.

How had she ever believed he was out at night enjoying the life of an idle billionaire? The date with the supermodel that had tormented her for days was so obviously a ruse - and it had all been because of her own damned letter!

The irony of that revelation had cracked her up earlier today, and she smiled now thinking about it.

"Care to let me in on the joke?" The deep, cultured voice came from her left. The owner was a man in his late fifties or early sixties, with thick greying hair and blue eyes. He was tall, and carried himself with the arrogance of the self-important.

Her smile slipped a fragment, before she could catch herself. She was playing a role tonight - she couldn't afford to show her disgust every time a sleazy old man started talking to her. She was here to attract a certain sleazy old man, after all.

But this guy wasn't Royston Connell. So she took another sip of champagne before curtly replying. "Just a private thought."

"Ah, it's a shame I can't pick up on those. I would've loved to have known what made you smile so."

Her brow creased slightly at his words. He was expressing regret at not having the exact ability she possessed. It was probably a coincidence...but something about the man unnerved her.

"If you'll excuse me," she replied, grabbing the train of her skirt and moving further into the crowd. She chanced a look back at him and found his gaze boring into her. His face had lost its genial expression and he was looking at her searchingly. Startled, she whipped her head back around and continued walking.

She drained her drink and placed the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray. Her nerves were getting the better of her. Or maybe Bruce's paranoia was rubbing off on her - she was starting to imagine danger at every turn.

It was time to find Connell and get the hell out of here.

———

The moment Bruce entered the ballroom, the wolves descended. And by wolves, he meant the opportunists who wanted to take advantage of the Wayne name and fortune: the entrepreneurs looking for investments; the philanthropes looking for donations, and the mothers looking to marry their daughters off to Gotham's most eligible bachelor.

He muttered non-committal responses to them all as he tried to furtively look around the room for Beth. She should have arrived before him, but he was struggling to find her in the crowd, and he didn't want to be obvious about it. They weren't supposed to know each other, after all. He hadn't seen her before she left, so had no idea what she was wearing...

A break in the horde of mingling socialites offered him a glimpse of a woman in red; she had her back to him and the golden stretch of silky skin on display distracted him momentarily. Then she turned, and he realised it was Beth.

He was stunned.

And shaken to his core by the sheer force of want that hit him at the sight of her.

He had always found her beautiful, even shuffling around the penthouse with no makeup, her glasses on, and her hair in a careless ponytail. So it wasn't the sleek up-do, elegant makeup, or the dress that hugged her like a second skin that he found so breathtaking.

It was just her.

Amongst the superficial, phoney throng of Gotham's elite, with the fake smiles that stretched the limits of their plastic surgery, she shone with a pure, innocent radiance.

And he wanted her, like he'd never wanted anything in his life.

He wasn't the only one.

His hands clenched so tightly he could feel his joints crack when a man approached her with a glass of wine, his leering eyes locked on her breasts. Bruce was too far away to hear the conversation between them but Beth's shaking head and lack of smile was a clear indication that she was not interested.

Clear to Bruce.

But not to the creep with the wine. He kept talking, and took a step closer to Beth. And another, when she chose to step back. Bruce pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against, ready to intervene - itching to intervene - when someone else got there first.

Royston Connell.

He was a short man, carrying more than a few extra pounds - not the most imposing physique - but something in the look in his eye was enough to scare off the creep. Connell said a few words to Beth, and she smiled widely, luring him in as planned. Bruce watched intently, no longer caring if the crowd saw him staring at Beth. He didn't want to take his eyes off her while she was in the orbit of a potential criminal mastermind.

Connell held his hand out in invitation and Beth accepted, allowing herself to be led onto the dance floor. The slight hesitation before she placed her hand in Connell's would have been imperceptible to anyone but Bruce.

But he knew what this was costing her.

Connell's hand came to rest on her bare back as he spun her into a slow waltz and Bruce could barely breathe with hatred at the sight of that small movement. Both for what it was doing to Beth...and the thought of another man getting to touch her soft, warm skin.

They danced for several long moments, and with each rotation around the floor, he could see Beth's smile become more brittle and forced. Her skin lost his golden glow and she became ashen. The hand resting on Connell's shoulder clenched into a tight fist.

Unable to watch her suffering for a second more, Bruce strode onto the dance floor. He approached her from behind and addressed Connell over her shoulder. "Do you mind if I cut in?" he asked.

She glanced up at him in surprise. But when Connell released her from his hold he could read the signs of relief on her face. She took a tiny step back, the skirt of her dress brushing against his shoes, and relaxed her clenched hand.

"Bruce Wayne, isn't it?" Connell asked. At Bruce's nod, his smile grew. "I was told you avoid these shindigs like the plague. And yet here you are, stealing my dance partner." There was an edge to his voice, as if he wasn't used to having to cede ground to others.

Not wanting to antagonise the man further - before he knew what he was capable of - Bruce tried to act the part of the laid-back and entitled (but ultimately harmless) rich kid. "Like you said, I rarely come to these events. But when I do, I like to spend my time with the most beautiful woman in attendance. Makes the night pass quicker." He smiled and shrugged before turning to Beth. "When I met you outside, you promised the first dance to me. I'm trying not to feel slighted."

Beth smiled up at Connell. "I did promise him that. I'm sorry, Mr Connell. But thank you for your help earlier, and for the dance."

"It was a pleasure, my dear." He grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the bare skin. Bruce saw her stiffen, and he stroked his own hand down her hip, hoping that the contact would comfort her.

Connell walked away and Beth turned to him, a question in her eyes. None of that had been in the plan - she was supposed to extricate herself from Connell and sneak back to the limo; Bruce would stay for another half an hour before meeting her back at Wayne Tower.

They weren't supposed to interact in public.

And they definitely weren't supposed to dance.

But Bruce wasn't going to let this opportunity go.

He took Beth into his arms and spun them around, manoeuvring them to the far edge of the dance floor where the dimmed lights offered them some privacy. She gasped at the first contact of his hands, before relaxing again at the feel of the evening gloves he was wearing.

She nodded towards their clasped hands, a reversal from their usual interactions where she would be the one wearing the protective layer. "Thank you."

His response was a small smile, and a squeeze of the hand he held in his.

"Wait," she whispered, conscious of the other couples around them. "Do the gloves mean you planned for us to dance? I thought we were meant to meet up later."

It hadn't been his plan. He'd found the gloves laid out with his evening wear and had stashed them in his pocket without thinking.

Which meant that it had been Alfred's plan.

Bruce couldn't muster annoyance at the interfering butler, not when it meant he could hold Beth so closely. He ignored her question and whispered one of his own. "So, is it Connell?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "He's a monster. Drugs, human trafficking...he's got fingers in all those horrible pies. And he's bankrolling a biochemist to develop the paralysing gas and other weapons. The canisters you've come across on the street are just the prototypes. He wants the formula perfected so he can take out all the gangs in Gotham. He's aiming to run the whole city."

Bruce just nodded as his suspicions were confirmed.

"Should we go?" Beth asked, angling her head to whisper close to his ear. "Work out the next steps?"

Bruce took advantage of her position to dip his head close to hers, to whisper in her ear. "It can wait." The strands of hair escaping from her chignon brushed against his cheek. He could smell her shampoo and the perfume she must have dabbed on her neck. He could almost imagine the warmth rising from his soft skin...

He wanted to press his lips to that skin and taste her.

He settled for breathing in her scent and pulling her closer with the hand on her back. He stroked his gloved thumb against her bare skin and heard her breath falter at the touch.

But she didn't pull away.

She draped her arm over his shoulder, bringing them closer still.

It can wait.

He never imagined he'd ever be willing to put a mission on hold. To take time out and simply live in the moment. To enjoy something as simple as a dance.

But then again...this wasn't a simple dance.

It was an embrace. His first proper embrace with the woman that he desired. The woman who had become his closest friend. The woman who made his house a home, and gave him a reason to stay alive when he faced danger on the streets. The woman who understood him, as no one else did. The woman who had opened him up to hope and possibility.

The woman he loved.

The woman he was in love with.

The revelation didn't shock him - a part of him had always known. In the beginning, when he'd tried to convince himself it was just curiosity; when they became friends and he denied to Alfred it was anything more...

He'd always known his feelings for her were so much deeper than he could admit.

It was the reason he ran scared when she was in danger.

Losing her would be impossible to overcome...because she was the most important person in his life.

He loved her.

The song floating through the air changed to an uptempo number, but he kept swaying gently with Beth, wanting to prolong this interlude with her.

His lips were now inches from her neck. It would be so easy to breach that distance and kiss her...to release his secret through that contact and have her know the truth...

But he wanted to say the words aloud. She deserved that.

And now was the time.

He had the strange feeling that if he didn't tell her now, he'd never find the courage again.

He lifted his head. She looked flushed and soft and achingly gorgeous. She licked her lips and his eyes flicked to the movement before meeting her gaze again.

"Bruce?" His name was barely a whisper, as if she too was reluctant to break the spell between them.

He took a deep breath. "I-I love you, Beth."

She gasped...

Then pulled away from him, shattering the intimacy of the moment.