Clara doesn't sleep.

She closes her eyes, counts sheep in her head and yet the relief of sleep eludes her. She puts it down to her fever, which is now gone. Almost. The only remnant of that fever is the slight cold she feels. Otherwise, she is okay. (Or is she?)

She doesn't have to check the time to know that it's late. Her body clock tells her it is almost 2 AM, a time when nobody in the world wakes or should be awake. But no, she is very much awake, her eyes open as she stares up at the ceiling of the canopy bed that doesn't belong to her. Part of her is annoyed at her niece for dragging her to Wayne Manor, a place that she doesn't want to stay in, but then a part of her thanks her for it.

In her weak, vulnerable moments, Bruce is the one person she wants, although she will never admit this to anybody.

Clara sits up on the bed, the blanket falling from her body. She waves her hand in the air and a small orb of light appears, providing a faint source of light in the darkness of the room. The light bounces off the reflective surface of the clock, and her earlier thought is confirmed.

It is almost 2 AM. But her body just refuses to sleep. She waves her hand once more and the orb disappears, shrouding the room in darkness once more. She lets out a heavy sigh, her hands suddenly clenching onto the blanket.

"Maybe, I'll just check on Lia...yeah, I'll do that," Clara mutters to no one in particular. She gets off the bed, standing up and draping the blanket around her like a massive cloak. She shivers as her bare feet meet the cold marble, but ignores the feeling and walks towards the door.

The hallway outside is also covered in darkness, the lamps providing a bare minimum of the light that guides her to where she wants to go. But Clara is familiar with this place, so even in this darkness, she walks through. Silence surrounds her as she walks down the hall, her eyes flitting across the paintings and the small decorations dotting it. Her hold around the blanket almost slackens, but she pulls it around herself, holding onto it a little tighter.

She walks and walks, till she reaches the guest room where Aurelia generally stays. She gently pushes the door open, taking care so that she doesn't wake her little niece. But the bed is empty and the blankets are folded neatly. Aurelia isn't here; she is not in the room.

Her heart almost jolts out of worry when she remembers that Dick's room is close by. And something tells her that Aurelia will be with him like she always is.

A smile grows on Clara's face as she turns away from the guest room. She slowly walks in the direction of Dick's room. The door is slightly ajar, and she can see a glimpse of Aurelia's scarlet hair shining through the darkness. She raises her right hand and gently slides her fingers through the air. The door opens soundlessly and she steps inside. Another quick spell and a faint light spreads across the room.

It's dim enough that no one will wake up but bright enough so that Clara can see Aurelia and Dick sleeping. She almost laughs seeing the position her niece sleeps in, with her legs half hanging over the bed, her torso sprawled over the bed and her face buried into Dick's neck. He has an arm around her, the smallest of smiles on his face. They look peaceful, happy; they look like actual teenagers with a normal childhood who are very much in love.

'Soulmates,' she thinks. Aurelia and Dick are young, but they are meant for each other. Clara remembers the time when she and Lia had argued over the existence of love magic. Her niece had simply said it didn't exist. Her exact words had been, 'There is no such thing that can be termed as love magic. It's just plain simple mind-control, trickery and deception that forms whatever you call as Love Magic.'

Clara had asked her for her explanation and Lia's reasoning had been so profound that it had taken her a second to remember that this was her niece who was talking (and of course, the wisdom of the Phoenix had seeped through in her words). Lia had clearly said that love could not be created, changed, transformed through magic.

It comes on its own, unexpected. It comes from the heart, from the soul. There's no magic that can explain that feeling. It simply doesn't exist.

And to this day, to this very minute, the words resonate with Clara.

She steps backwards with a warm smile on her face, waving her hand to make the light disappear. She closes the door, pulling the blanket behind her. Once the door is shut, she leans against it, eyes half-closed. Silently, she hopes, prays for Dick and Aurelia to stay as happy as they are now. Happy with each other.

"Keep them safe," Clara asks of magic. Keep them happy.

"You should be sleeping right now," A familiar voice says through the darkness, and her head snaps in the direction it came from. "Why are you awake?"

"Bruce!" Startled, Clara lets go of the blanket where it falls and pools beneath her feet. That's a mistake as a sudden shiver goes through her. She rubs her bare arms, meeting Bruce's dark eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't answer my question," Bruce says calmly. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I couldn't," She tells him, slightly nervous. "So I came to check on Lia. Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," Bruce says, walking towards her. It is then she realises that he is half-naked, wearing only his dark pyjamas. His chest is devoid of a shirt, and she gulps slightly. He is Bruce Wayne and he is handsome. A childish part of her thinks, 'Maybe you two should have stayed together if it means seeing him like this.'

'No! Don't look, you idiot...' Clara mentally tells herself, keeping her gaze on Bruce's face. She just hopes her mental conflict doesn't show up on her face. Otherwise, he might find out and it won't be a great thing.

"You have a tendency to be reckless, Clara," His words are blunt, slightly harsh. But also true. He walks right up to her, standing a mere foot away. "Are you really fine?"

"Yeah totally!" She replies, a little too brightly. "I don't have a fever. Not anymore." Even as she says this, she shivers again, rubbing her arms to warm herself up. "I'm okay."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe," Bruce states. He crouches to the floor, grabbing the blanket before standing upright. Clara looks up at him, the distance between them significantly reduced. They're standing close, almost too close. She stiffens slightly as Bruce drapes the blanket around her shoulder, his fingers brushing unintentionally against her arms. (Or was it intentionally?)

She takes in the sight of his face and notes his sharp features, which she remembers all too well. The last time they stood this close, that time was...something. She grabs the blanket from his hands, ignoring that heat that erupts across her arms. But she doesn't move.

Neither does he.

"Bruce?" Clara keeps her voice low, mind suddenly whirring back to old times. "I...I..."

But words don't come to her mind, similar to the time she first stood in front of him like this, post-Darkseid. She had been younger, more nervous than she is now. No words still...

Clara takes a step closer to him, dropping the damn blanket from her shoulders, "You and I...we...why did we? I don't..."

"I do. And you remember why too," Bruce answers, his voice normal and not carrying a single hint of what he feels. As always. He doesn't do anything (even if he wants to), watches as Clara's expression falls.

"I regret it," She says quietly. "To this day, I regret it."

After taking a short pause, Clara continues. "It pains and embarrasses me to admit it but I'm jealous of what they have," she cocks her head in the direction of Dick's room. "But they're good for each other. I'm glad they're getting the chance we never got...Maybe, we just weren't supposed to be."

"Maybe," Bruce barely brushes his hand against her cheeks, but she grabs it and holds it in place. The heat that radiates from his palm is enough to warm her up. "Maybe."

"It's one of my biggest regrets, Bruce. Always will be. But you know, feelings like that? They don't die easily."

Clara took his other hand, squeezing it gently. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him like she had done multiple times many years ago. She hovers, millimetres away from his lips, soundless, simply taking in Bruce's presence for these few precious moments.

But Bruce stuns her, by sliding his arms around her, holding her close. He kisses her and the world falls away. The kiss is soft, gentle and slow, comforting her in a way words cannot. The heat that erupts inside her is familiar, the feeling of Bruce's lips against her igniting another memory.

And Clara remembers. All the moments with her and Bruce, everything they had...she remembers.

'No regrets...no regrets anymore.' 

HEHEHEHE 😏😏

I've had this chapter pre-written for a while now. Writing this kind of actually hurt my heart, because while Bruce and Clara do have feelings for each other, they don't actually see themselves being together. You can also consider this chapter as a slight foreshadowing to the angst that is going to come. 😉

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Let me know your thoughts in the comments!