A/N: I bet you thought I died or something. No, just buried under a mound of upper division English and History. Sorry this update took so long, but when my very own mother was begging me to update (we live in the same house, by the way) I really had to do something. I hope you guys like this. More action in the next chapter hopefully. Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. I really appreciate it.

Three months. They hadn't been blissful, but they had certainly been good. The Black Mask hadn't resurfaced, which nagged at Bruce, but made his nights as Batman seemingly safer. He'd also managed not to completely freak out when Lizzie told him she'd kissed Jonathan Crane. He'd been pissed at first, but was eventually grateful she'd come right out and told him the truth. What really freaked him out was facing James Gordon with the news he was marrying his goddaughter.

Barbara was ecstatic and not at all concerned about the whirlwind nature of their romance. The commissioner was another matter altogether. He lectured Lizzie privately and barely acknowledged Bruce's presence for two solid weeks. He eventually came around, however, and Bruce was fairly certain he had Barbara to thank for it.

Coleman Reese's dad might have been the best contractor in the world. In three months, he'd completed the work in the entire house and even fixed things the previous contractor mutilated. Reese's sister had also taken on Bruce's entire collection of half-burned photographs to restore. Wayne manor looked more and more like a home everyday, and Bruce loved seeing Lizzie's face in it nearly every morning.

"Mister Wayne?"

He'd had three secretaries since Imelda was murdered and he hadn't bothered to learn any of their names. This one was no different. She was blonde, long-legged, and pretty; a stereotypical secretary. She was also sleeping with someone on the board, Bruce just hadn't yet figured out who it was.

"Yes," he finally answered, looking up from his computer screen of last night's police reports.

"You have a visitor," she reported as James Gordon, Jr. appeared from behind her.

"Jimmy," Bruce said, standing up and walking around his desk, "this is unexpected." He waved his secretary off and said, "How did you get here?"

Jimmy bit his lip and shrugged under his heavy jacket. "I took the monorail," he muttered.

Bruce's eyes widened. "Jimmy that's dangerous for anyone alone, much less a kid, and the commissioner's kid at that," he lectured.

"Stop it!" Jimmy yelled in reply. "I don't need to be told it's dangerous to be my dad's son. I know. I've had a gun against my head for it. I don't need you to tell me about it!"

Bruce's secretary was looking at them out of the corners of her eyes. He pressed the button to frost the glass walls in response. Gently, he led Jimmy to a chair by his desk and sat down in front of him. He took a deep breath, knowing he was about to plunge into unfamiliar territory.

"Jimmy, what's wrong?" he asked. "Why are you here?"

The blond boy stared at the toes of his sneakers. "I don't know," he answered quietly. "There's something weird about you. I gotta figure out what it is."

Bruce forced a smile. "Well," he began hesitantly, "my family's always had a lot of money and I'm probably a little different because—"

"That's not it," Jimmy cut in. "It's like…I know you, but not really. I just don't understand."

Bruce sighed and pulled his chair closer to the boy's. "Jimmy, I, uh, I think I know why I seem so familiar to you," he said.

"Why?" Jimmy asked, looking up at him incredulously.

"We sort of have a shared experience," Bruce explained. "You see, Lizzie told me about what Harvey Dent did. She told me he kidnapped you and threatened you with a gun and nearly killed your father in front of you."

Jimmy didn't respond. He simply looked out of the window while tears pooled in his eyes.

Bruce continued, "When I was about your age, I had a similar experience. A man robbed my parents and then shot them while I watched. That night changed my life. It changed who I was. You went through something just as horrifying."

Jimmy finally met Bruce's eyes. "My parents didn't die," he stated.

"No one put a gun to my head," Bruce replied. "That probably makes us pretty close to being even. What I'm trying to say is that what happened that night is always going to be a part of me, and what happened to you is always going to be a part of you. Maybe what's familiar to you in me is something you're seeing in the mirror."

Jimmy looked at him for a long time. "I guess," he finally relented.

Bruce released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He nearly jumped when his cell phone started ringing in his breast pocket. It was Lizzie.

He didn't have time to say hello before she started, "Bruce, I'm at Jimmy's school and he's not here. He wasn't waiting for me and I can't find him anywhere and his backpack is still here. Bruce he—"

"Lizzie!" he cut her off loudly. "It's okay he's here."

"He's what?"

"He's here in my office," Bruce explained. "I'm looking right at him."

"Why did he come to your office? He doesn't really like you that much."

"Thank you very much," he answered sarcastically.

"It's not me, it's him," she told him. "I adore you."

Bruce smiled at her playful tone. Jimmy waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention.

"She hasn't told my parents, has she?" he asked quietly.

"No," Lizzie answered as Jimmy was obviously not quiet enough. "I thought I'd give you a chance to find him before I started a mass panic. I'm on my way to the theatre. Could you meet me there with Jimmy? I'm a little short on boys and he just volunteered for my program."

Bruce eyed the little boy curiously. "I think you're gonna be in a musical," he told him.

Jimmy's eyes widened in absolute horror. "I don't wanna be in a musical!" he squeaked.

"Tell him he either joins my theatre program or I tell Uncle Jim and Aunt Barbara about his little adventure today," Lizzie ordered over the phone.

Bruce did his best to suppress a grin at the situation. "It's the musical, or she tells your parents, bud," Bruce warned him.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "So my choices are walking the plank, or getting beheaded?"

"Basically," Bruce replied.

Jimmy slumped in his chair and stuck out his bottom lip. "I guess I'll walk the plank, then," he muttered sadly.

Bruce's forehead furrowed in minor confusion. "I think he just agreed," he told Lizzie.

"Good," she replied, obviously satisfied. "I'll see you in a few minutes. I love you."

"Love you, too," Bruce replied before snapping the phone shut and stowing it back in his breast pocket.

He smiled at the defeated-looking little boy and slapped him lightly on the knee. "Come on. I'll take you to the theatre."

Jimmy perked up and said, "Can we take your motorcycle?"

Bruce laughed at his enthusiasm. "I'm not really dressed for that," he said, motioning to his three-piece suit, "but I think I have something just as fun."

"Woah!" Jimmy said in awe as they stopped in front of the theatre.

A loud knock sounded at Bruce's window. He rolled down the window to see his fiancée staring him down angrily with both fists on her hips.

"You brought him in the Lamborghini?" she asked sternly.

"It was awesome!" Jimmy exclaimed.

Bruce smiled and said, "What's the problem?"

"I know how you drive," she answered flatly.

Bruce grinned sheepishly while his ears reddened. Jimmy excused himself and made a dash for the theatre doors. Bruce calmly got out of the car and faced his fiancée.

"I was extremely careful," he assured her.

"Yeah, that's why he looked so ridiculously excited when you pulled up, right?" she asked incredulously.

"It is a Lamborghini," he reminded her as he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

"This isn't going to work," she told him, leaving her fists firmly on her hips.

"Really?" he asked, trailing kisses along her collar bone and neck.

She moaned involuntarily and said, "Maybe not," before her lips met his.

When they broke away, her arms were around his neck. She smiled and said, "So why was Jimmy at your office?"

"He said there was something familiar about me he couldn't put his finger on," Bruce answered. "He came to confront me about it."

"What did you say?" she asked curiously.

"I told him some crap my therapist told me about major trauma connecting people," he answered. "He seemed to buy it."

"I'm not sure which is more shocking," she began, "the idea that Jimmy bought that, or the fact that you ever had a therapist."

"I didn't really listen to him," Bruce admitted, smiling.

"Now, that doesn't surprise me at all," she told him, stroking his shoulders and upper arms.

He rested his forehead against hers and said, "You coming over tonight?"

"Should I just move in?" she asked, smiling slyly.

"Absolutely," Bruce answered, holding her closer. "All the bedrooms are finished now. You wouldn't even have to sleep with me."

"Why would I pass up the chance to sleep with you?" she asked playfully.

"I don't know, but I sure as hell wouldn't pass up the chance to sleep with you," he answered before roughly pressing his mouth to hers.

"You guys are gross."

They turned to see Jimmy standing in the doorway of the theatre with a disgusted look on his face. "Everyone's waiting for you, Lizzie," he told her before turning back toward the auditorium.

She looked up at Bruce and said, "Can you stay?"

"For a while," he answered, allowing her to lead him by the hand. "What are you working on?"

"Newsies," she answered, pulling him along behind. "You might not like it. It's about a bunch of paper boys sticking it to 'the man' and you sort of are 'the man.'"

"Eh," Bruce began dismissively, "I'm much better looking than Robert Duvall."

Lizzie stopped suddenly and looked at her fiancé in surprise. He smiled mischievously and said, "My mother loved musicals."

"It's been a real pleasure, Mr. Reese," Bruce said as he shook the older man's hand.

"Same here," Richard Reese – a tall, strapping man who looked almost nothing like his son – replied. "I'm sorry we couldn't get your ballroom finished earlier. It was just in such bad condition, and your previous contractor made it worse."

"That's perfectly all right," Bruce assured him. "It gave us time to plan a better party, which I'm sorry you can't stay for."

Richard smiled and said, "I'm sorry too. This place is going to look beautiful when it's decorated and everything, but Annie's about to pop, and my wife would kill me if I missed the birth of our first grandchild, not to mention our wedding anniversary."

Bruce laughed and said, "I can't say I completely understand, but I hope I will eventually."

Richard gave the younger man a jolly smile. "Congratulations on deciding to take the plunge, Mr. Wayne. I haven't spent that much time with Miss Daniels, but my son thinks the world of her and you two seem very happy together."

"We are," Bruce assured him with a shy smile.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce lifted his eyes to see Coleman Reese walking into the ballroom struggling to carry a large box covered in shipping labels.

"What is that?" Bruce asked him.

"The last of the photos Annie restored," Coleman answered, obviously straining under the weight of the box. "Where do you want them?"

"Just put them on the table there," Bruce replied. "There should be a car out front to take you to the airport, Mr. Reese."

The elder Reese nodded, slapped his son on the back approvingly, and walked toward the front door. The younger Reese looked up at his boss and said, "Since the party is the day after tomorrow, I thought I'd get these into frames and albums tonight, if that's alright with you."

"Actually, it's not alright with me, Reese," Bruce told him sternly.

"What?" Coleman asked, suddenly sheepish and slightly hurt.

"Hey, Coley."

Coleman smiled at the sound of Lizzie's voice. "So that's why you don't want me around."

Bruce's gaze toward his employee narrowed angrily. Coleman cowered slightly as he watched Lizzie and Bruce embrace and kiss chastely. Bruce looked back at him with a sly grin.

"What I want you to do tonight is get in that car with your father and go to the airport," Bruce told him. "You've been working hard these last three months, and you deserve some real quality time with your family."

"But-but I haven't packed."

"Already took care of it, Coleman," Bruce assured him.

"But I'll miss the engagement party," he whined.

"Well, we all have to make sacrifices," Bruce answered sarcastically.

Coleman smirked as Lizzie giggled. "Thanks a lot," he responded with equal sarcasm. "Don't forget about your appointment with Mr. Fox tomorrow."

"I have a secretary to tell me those things, Coleman."

"Well, your secretary hasn't had to listen to him grumble about you lighting a fire under him over the project and then ignoring it for three months," the smaller man explained.

"Coleman," Bruce began flatly, "go to Seattle."

The man gave his boss a mock salute before jogging toward the front door.

Lizzie smiled up at her future husband. "That was very generous of you."

Bruce shrugged. "He deserves it. He's practically worked two jobs for the last couple of months," he told her. "Coleman's just not the horrible guy I thought he was."

"He never was a horrible guy," Lizzie informed him.

"How do you know?" he asked her with an incredulous eyebrow.

"I was his bartender, remember?" she reminded him. "I've seen him with his inhibitions stripped away, and he was never really more ambitious or evil than the rest of us. He even knew you were a good man when I thought you were just a stuck-up prick."

Bruce's dimples appeared in a tight-lipped smile. "Maybe I should send him a thank-you card," he suggested playfully.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "I think you've done enough for Coleman Reese," she replied. "But, speaking of ambitious and evil, Gloria Ratworthy from the Times called me five times this afternoon."

"It's Wrentworthy," he corrected her, sighing and leaning against the lone table in the sparsely furnished room.

"I like Ratworthy, it suits her," Lizzie answered, sitting on the table next to him. "She doesn't just want an interview, she wants to be the only member of the press at our engagement party."

Bruce groaned at this news. "You know, I thought pulling out all the stops would keep the press off of us and raise fewer questions than just eloping would. And besides, your godfather would hate me forever if we just eloped."

"Uncle Jim loves you."

"He loves Batman. He's a little ambivalent about Bruce Wayne."

Lizzie sighed and said, "Could we stop worrying about my godfather for a minute and decide what we're going to do about Ms. Ratworthy?"

Bruce cupped Lizzie's face in one hand and planted a row of kisses along her jaw and neck and clavicle. His free hand drifted up her side from under her shirt.

Lizzie smiled into his kisses and whispered into his ear, "Are you trying to get somewhere, Mr. Wayne?"

"Yes," he admitted between kisses.

She leaned out of the range of his mouth and said, "Could you wait until after dinner?"

"Fine," Bruce grumbled as he allowed her to pull him along to the kitchen.

A/N: Can I let you in on a secret? I made Lizzie into a Musical Theatre major so I could, at some point, slip in a Newsies reference. Newsies is awesome, by the way. Go check it out.