Chapter seventeen: three words

Harmony's POV:

As soon as his mouth opened my body tensed up, and like a lighting bolt hitting my brain, a bad memory struck me. My fingers clamped shut on his shoudlers, his face was in a worried twist, and his soft eyes, looked so sad.

Even though I knew Bruce wasn't Harold, the knife earlier, and now the words of weapon, words I never thought I'd hear again, ran through my head, on loop.

An ancient echo.

"I'm sorry, it's too soon."

I stood up from the bed, wrapping a blanket around myself. For no reason I sat on the floor agianst the bed, looking at my toes under the Christmas moonlight.

"Harmony," Bruce stood next to me, after pulling on his underwear.

"It's not you."

"What?"

"It's not you, it's me."

He slumped down next to me on the floor, patiently sitting by my side. Bruce never tried to touch me or force me to do anything for an entire ten minutes. As we lay in silence I think I discovered a true feeling of regret for what I'd just done. The most sincere of relationships are the ones where you don't have to talk. Where you can stare at a wall for days and not want to move only being content because they are near you.

I loved him.

It was all too soon though, becuase if I was falling in love, that would only mean the impact would be harder and more painful.

"You don't have to tell me Harmony, but I'm going to tell you," Bruce spoke. My attention was on him now, and I made it clear by intertwining my hand with his own.

"When I was a little boy my parents and I went to a show on Christmas Eve. I don't remember why but I was scared of something during the play and I asked my parents to leave. When we got outside someone pointed a gun at my fathers head and asked for his wallet, and then my mothers necklace. After that he shot them dead, right in front of me, and for some cruel reason he left me there to wither in the blood of my dead parents alone, for hours. I know it's his fault that they are dead, but I can't seem to ever stop blaming myself. Then Rachel died, and I didn't even know if I could love again, until I met you."

"For what your father died for, you made up in bounds and leaps, I guarentee if he was here he'd be more than proud of you," I said.

Bruce seemed slightly suprised that I was talking "I'm not one to pressure, but you should really tell me what's bothering you, and I will try my best to understand."

My mind raced, telling someone my life story isn't a common or simple thing to do. My history compares to the brutality of Vikings. Yet something told me to trust Bruce, something.

"My dad left us when I was three, he went into the military and divorced my mother halfway through his leave. When he did, me and my mother were penniless. After my grandmother died, it got worse. My mother was a nice woman, but she was broken. Day after day man after man would show up and leave like nothing happened, not a single one of them showed their face again. She was prostituting. That's when I reached my stupid teenage years, I got into drinking and drugs, but nothing too hard core. That's when I met Harold."

My demeanor changed at only the mention of his name. Everyday I wasn't sure how I felt about him, guilty or relieved.

"Harold is your ex-husband?" Bruce clarified.

"Harold was a bad boy, and you know us girls and bad boys, we can't get enough of them. We met at a skate park party thing of course. He was older and I was a party girl so immeadiantly we hit it off. Sooner or later we moved in with each other, and that's when I started to notice his temper," I took a deep breath. Stupid brain, why do you have to keep reminding me.

"Take it slow," Bruce saw my discomfort and squeezed my hand tighter.

"Money began to be an issue seeing as I hadn't gone through college yet and he never finished high school. We worked every job we could but the stress was starting to show. So he let it out on me only verbally at the time, but it still hurt just as much. Not to mention the drinking. For some stupid reason I thought if I married him it would be better, and it was for a while. I decided to stop smoking and do online college classes, I got my life in order. We were happy for a bit after I got my job at GCND, and then he changed again, only much worse."

"You don't have to say anything else, I understand."

"No, I want to get this off my chest. He hit me. He hit me and beat me. It went on for at least half a year and that's when my mother called me and told me she was sick. Cancer. I hadn't seen her in at least five years and when she saw me with Harold, she knew. Appearantly my mom had the same idea as me before she got sick, she found a boyfriend who was semi-nice, and she cleaned her act up. She lasted seven months, on her death bed she gave me this," I showed Bruce the ring "it had been passed down from my great grandmother, generation after generation of daughters, and she told me I couldn't wear it until I got rid of Harold and took a stand for my own life. I didn't see him for three years after we got a divorce, and then someone called from the station, asking me to identify his body, the joker killed him. A few days after that, I met you."

Silence again. My story was over, my past was revealed. I patiently awaited his response.

"If you think about it, the Joker killed a person we once loved, and it only seemed to bring us together," Bruce commented.

I cracked a little smile "so I should thank the Joker for falling in love with you."

Bruce perked up to my words "so you do love me."

"Like I ever loved anyone before."

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I woke up in his arms, it was still the dead of night, and I had to use the laboratory. Bruce looked like an angel when he was sleeping, so I decided to find the bathroom for myself.

Finally after the fifteen minutes of roaming the halls for the bathroom I found one and used it quickly. On my way back to his room I heard someone in the kitchen, and my curiosity took control.

I peered through the large door into the kitchen and saw Alfred slaving over the dishes. I don't even remember putting the dishes near the sink, how rude could I have been. Yes Alfred is the butler and it's his job to clean the dishes, but I couldn't help feeling horrible that I'd made a mess and someone else had to clean it.

"I don't appricate being spied on Miss Jackson."

I stood upright quickly "how did you-"

"I'm not your average butler, Bruce has made me accustomed to his sneaking."

I walked over next to the sink and pondered for a moment whether or not to help clean the dishes, but eventually I picked up one of the few remaining plates and started to scrub off the food.

Alfred turned to me "I'm very capable of cleaning the dishes Madame, it is my job."

"I don't mind, I just figured you'd like some help."

"If you insist on dating Master Wayne your going to have to surrender your cleaning hobbies."

"Is that your way of telling me that you want me here?" I looked at him slyly.

"I will admit to nothing," he spoke cooly.

After we had finished cleaning the dishes the sun was rising and I knew any form of sleep I could possibly get wasn't going to happen with the sun shining in my face.

"Shouldn't you be with Master Wayne?" Alfred leaned into the counter.

"He needs his sleep and I will just be laying there staring at him like some paranormal activity psychopath."

"He's not the best with mornings."

"Do you have any coffee around here, Bruce brought me some one day and it was amazing."

Alfred stood up without another word and pulled out a bag of coffee beans. He placed them into a high-tech coffee machine and placed a cup underneith.

"It should be done in a few minutes."

"It's really great stuff where is it from?"

"Peru, straight from the source and shipped here overnight for maximum freshness," he informed me.

"I can bearly afford Starbucks."

Alfred gave me a slight look from the corner of his eyelid as if to say my poverty was the reason I was dating Bruce. He must have been like a father to him growing up and I understand his concern, but it still hurts to think such a large part of Bruce's life still didn't trust me.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"What was Rachael like? I know Bruce really liked her, and they've been friends for a very long time, I just, I want to what she was like."

It was true, since the moment this started to get fairly serious I wanted to know as much as I could about her. It's kind of hard to compete with a dead girl, especially when you don't know her. I sort of felt rude not knowing her, like I needed her approval to date him.

"To be honest, she was your exact opposite. Rachael was outgoing, headstrong, and knew what she wanted in a heart beat, but she was also too quick to judge, and she made the wrong choices all too often. Still she didn't deserve what she got."

"She seems nice," I tried to compliment.

Alfred pulled my coffee from the machine and handed it to me "she was indeed."

I blew on my drink before taking a nice long sip of its contents and sighing with pleasure. Nobody could top this stuff. Maybe I was actually in love with his coffee instead of just Bruce.

"You know Miss Jackson, what I said before about you not being the best for him, if you don't hurt him I actually think Master Bruce is doing better than usual."

"Do you mean that?"

"With the upmost sincerity."

I smiled at Alfred, even if he was lying, which I hope he wasn't, it still reassured me.

"You two having a party without me?" A sleepy eyed Bruce walked in. Alfred was supposedly uneffected by Bruce's sudden appearance, but I however wasn't ready for him to see me.

My hair was in a scary bun on the top of my head and I had streaks of mascara on my cheeks. Not to mention the coffee mustache I had on my top lip.

"I thought you were sleeping," I stated.

"I was sleeping until I smelled coffee."

Alfred got up to make another cup of the stuff but Bruce stopped him. The two of them exchanged knowing looks and Alfred left the room. What was that all about.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Not as well as I'd hoped, but your bed is really comfortable."

Bruce nodded "it'd better be seeing as I paid five thousand for it."

Bruce pour more coffee beans into the machine and started fishing through his fridge.

"What are you doing today?" I asked, hopeful that he would be free.

"Work as usual, but I don't have to go til later in the day."

In my head I screamed yes, but on the outside I remained calm.

"Did you want to do something?" He raised his brow at me.

"You got to show me your place, now I've got a place to show you."

"Where is it at?"

"It's a secret, but first we are going to have to make about a hundred sandwiches."

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Bruce helped me carry the large cooler full of pb&j's to the entrance of the homeless shelter. I came here as often as I could to help pour soup and bring snacks, it gave me a piece of mind.

Now I wanted to share my place of peace with Bruce, especially right after Christmas when everyone deserved something.

"I've got to tell you, I wasn't expecting this."

"I knew you wouldn't, I still have to keep some tricks up my sleeve."

I pushed open the back door of the shelter, waving at a few people as I set the cooler on a table. Everyone in the kitchen was staring directly at me and Bruce, even more so the very out of place billionare.

"It's good to see you-" the manager of the shelter approached me, but froze when she laid eyes on Bruce.

"Bruce Wayne?" She said aloud, extremely confused.

"That would be me," he smiled.

Everyone in the kitchen were looking around waiting for something to happen, including Bruce.

"He came to help out, and we brought sandwiches."

Bruce lifted the top off the cooler and revealed the many many stacks sandwiches.

"Well then, by all means, put on a hair net and start serving," the manager spoke, patting my shoulder.

"A hair net?" Bruce sounded worried.

I pulled a couple nets from a dispenser and pulled one over my matted bun, and then took the other and slipped it over Bruce's perfect slick hair. The black mesh blended easily with his hair color, but I still couldn't help laughing a little bit at now ridiculous he looked.

R

"What's so funny?" He grabbed my hips and pulled me tighter. At first I though he was going to kiss me, but in one swift motion he managed to pull off his hair net and playfully hang it over my face.

"Now that is funny," he commented, glaring at my net covered eyes.

"You still have to wear smart guy."

Bruce's face lit up with joy, maybe this really was a good idea.

His eyes widened when I could hear his phone ringing in his pocket, and he pulled it out. After checking the screen his face turned ghost white and I swear his hand was trembiling.

"I have to go," he spoke through grit teeth.

"What's wrong?"

"Personal stuff."

Just like that the fun was over, and I could help but wonder what Bruce wasn't telling me, because with all the dissappearances and the I have to go's, he's bound to be hiding something.