Don't You Run

And now for something completely different…

Fandom: Batman Begins
Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman)/OMC
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Batman belongs to DC Comics and Batman Begins belongs to Warner Bros.
Author's Notes:
- I played hard and fast with Batman Begins, so some things might not be canon.
- Does not acknowledge Dark Knight or the last scene of Batman Begins (no Joker).
- I have no experience with Batman other than watching most of Batman Begins about ten times. Oh and Batman and Robin.
- Title comes from "Little House" by Amanda Seyfried.

Bruce sighed and set his newspaper aside. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Thunder clapped outside and a moment later he saw a flash of lightening through the window of his study.

It had taken almost a year to rebuild his parents' house. Part of it still wasn't finished; work crews littered the west wing during the day. It had been hard having people around. Bruce was at Wayne Enterprises in the morning and he was still going out at night, on top of spending his early evenings setting up the newly built Batcave. Simply put, he'd been exhausted for the past year.

"Coffee, Master Wayne?"

Bruce opened his eyes and turned his head to see Alfred approaching with a silver tray. There was a small carafe of coffee, a mug, and a muffin.

"That sounds wonderful, Alfred, thank you."

Alfred set the tray down next to the abandoned newspaper. "Long night last night, sir?" He asked, as he poured the coffee.

Bruce sighed. "Too long. I swear, Alfred… no matter how much I do for this city, I feel like every time I turn around, there's some one else who needs saving, something else that needs doing."

"It is a never ending job, sir." He handed Bruce the mug full of coffee. Bruce accepted the cup and inhaled the steam. "And someone has to do it," he added lightly.

"Yes," Bruce agreed quietly. "Someone has to do it." He took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the heat. In the background he could hear doors opening and ladders being set up. "How many more days until they're gone?"

"Seventeen, sir," Alfred answered cheerily. "We shall have to hold a private celebration once their absence is permanent."

"If that means party, then I'm all for that," Bruce said. He took a longer sip of the hot beverage this time.

"Indeed, sir. Might I be of any more assistance to you?"

Bruce shook his head. "I'm good, thanks."

"Not a problem, Master Wayne. I shall leave you to your reading, sir."

Alfred quietly slipped out and Bruce turned his head to stare out the window. It was Saturday morning and the work crews would start soon, if they hadn't already. Rain poured down outside and it was still so dark with heavy clouds in the sky.

He sighed and thought of Rachel. He wondered if the Bruce she loved even still existed. If he had ever existed. Bruce hadn't been that young, innocent boy she'd known in a long time.

Bruce felt older than his thirty-two years said he should feel. He was tired and just a little bit lonely. Alfred was great to come home to, but he didn't truly understand the drive that Bruce had. The drive to do what was right and to help the world, one person at a time if that's what it took.

The thunder clapped outside and Bruce saw lightening. It lit up the gloomy sky and Bruce wished he could just roll back into bed under his soft, warm blankets. But he had some papers to sign at Wayne Enterprises and according to his secretary, they had to be signed today.

By the time Bruce made it to the door, Alfred was waiting for him with an umbrella and a long rain coat. Bruce offered a half-smile as he slipped the coat on and pocketed the umbrella. Alfred had offered to drive him, but Bruce felt better about having unknown people in his house if someone he trusted was there to watch them. Which really just meant Alfred.

"The Mercedes today, sir?" Alfred asked.

Bruce's gaze drifted over to the black Mercedes in his garage. It was one of several cars, and while Bruce didn't necessarily need that many cars, it was expected of him, and thus he had a garage full of cars that were barely ever driven.

"Sure, why not?" Bruce agreed.

Alfred handed him the keys and wished him safe driving while promising to have hot coffee waiting for him when he returned. Bruce nodded and slid easily into his car. It still smelt new.

The only good thing about how much rain there was, was crime went down. No one wanted to be out in this weather, not even hoodlums. So Bruce got a couple more hours of sleep each night.

The streets were all but deserted as Bruce drove to his office. There were a few cars on the road, but most of Gotham's residents, it seemed, had decided to stay in; just as Bruce would do once he signed those papers.

Once he arrived, it went quicker than Bruce could have hoped for. His secretary had been waiting in the lobby for him and Bruce had scribbled out his name a few times and that had been that. He never even took off his jacket.

If possible it was raining even harder when Bruce began the drive back home. There was so much rain that he could barely see, his wipers could barely keep up.

Bruce was stopped at a stop light when he saw a figure walk past his car. Bruce stared in disbelief as the person, Bruce was guessing a man but it was hard to tell, walked slowly in the rain without a jacket, and, Bruce was pretty sure, without shoes. Bruce thought about the coffee waiting for him at home, and the way he couldn't even count how many jackets or pairs of shoes he had.

Bruce felt inexplicably guilty for everything he had as he drove past the man. He didn't get far though, as the part of him that wore the costume each night protested at leaving a man in need of help. So Bruce pulled over and waited for the figure to reach his car.

The man was about to walk right past him when Bruce rolled down his window. He wasn't sure what the hell he was going to say, but he hoped it didn't come out as a solicitation. That was the last thing he needed.

"Can I give you a ride?" Bruce shouted, trying to be heard over the rain and thunder.

The figure stopped immediately and looked around, as if Bruce was talking to someone else walking in the rain who needed a ride. The person, a man Bruce now knew for sure, looked hesitant and then shook his head.

Bruce leaned over into the passenger seat. "Are you sure, man? It's gotta be freezing out there. It's no problem, really."

The man laughed and while Bruce couldn't hear it, he knew without a doubt that it hadn't been a laugh born of happiness. The stranger smiled sadly and shook his head again.

A strong gust of wind blew in and Bruce's leather seats were getting soaked with water, but Bruce was determined not to give up. "Look, I don't want anything in return, it's just a ride. I'm just trying to help. It's cold and windy and you look like you're about half-frozen, let me drive you to where you need to be."

The man finally walked a little closer to the car, close enough that if Bruce opened the passenger door, it would hit him. Sad blue eyes met Bruce's and the man said, just loud enough for Bruce to hear him, "Thanks, dude, but I've got nowhere to go."

"Nowhere?" Bruce frowned. "You were headed somewhere."

The man nodded. "To the bridge a few miles away."

Bruce opened his mouth to offer to drive the guy there when it hit him. He knew that bridge, it was infamously called the Death Bridge because of how many people jumped off of it, killing themselves. And Bruce suddenly knew, without a doubt, that's what this man was going to go do.

Bruce swallowed. "I have a guest room and coffee waiting back home, you're welcome to stay for the night."

The guy blinked in surprise and curiosity stretched across his features. "You don't even know me, why are you doing this?"

Bruce shrugged. "Helping people is a hobby of mine."

"That's some hobby."

Bruce stretched across to open the passenger door. The man stepped back and pulled it open the rest of the way. He hesitated when he saw the inside of Bruce's car.

"I don't want to get it wet."

"It'll dry," Bruce assured him.

The man slowly slid in and Bruce rolled the window back up while his passenger shut the door and buckled his seat belt. Now that Bruce was closer, he could see that the man wasn't nearly as old as Bruce had thought he was. He was in his early twenties, maybe, if Bruce were being generous.

Bruce held out his hand. "Bruce."

"Charlie," the stranger said in reply. He shook Bruce's hand, grip soft. His voice was much quieter now, and Bruce suspected that it was normally very soft.

"Nice to meet you," Bruce said as he peeled away from the curb.

"You too," Charlie replied quietly.

The drive back was quiet and Bruce fought the urge to glance at his passenger every few minutes. Charlie seemed nervous enough, he didn't need Bruce staring at him, adding to it.

Charlie's eyes widened when he saw how many cars were in Bruce's garage. Alfred met him at the door, and not for the first time did Bruce wonder exactly how Alfred always knew he was home.

Alfred accepted Bruce's wet jacket as he asked, "Who's your friend, Master Wayne?"

Charlie was hiding mostly behind Bruce, hands deep in his pockets, and dripping all over the floor.

"This is Charlie. Charlie, this is Alfred. He's spending the night," Bruce added in Alfred's direction.

"I shall prepare a guest room for him then, sir." Alfred looked the young man up and down. "And perhaps a change of clothes."

"You don't need to do that," Charlie whispered even as he dripped all over the garage floor. Alfred gave him a humorous look and then left them. Bruce was sure that he'd been back in a few minutes with fresh clothes.

"Here," Bruce opened the door next to the main house entrance. "Alfred insisted on putting a bathroom in here so that I could wash up before coming inside if I'm working on the cars." He flipped the light switch. "There's a shower and towels, you're welcome to both."

Charlie nodded slowly. "Why are you doing this?"

"Like I said, helping people is a hobby of mine," Bruce answered with a smile and a shrug. "Take a shower, warm up, then there's coffee - and food - I promise."

Bruce turned to head into the house when he felt Charlie lightly brush a hand against his arm. "Thank you." It was warm and honest and blue eyes went straight to Bruce's core.

"You're welcome."

Bruce left the door to the house open and looked back in time to see Charlie disappear into the bathroom. When he turned around again, Alfred was there with a set of clothes in his arms.

"Is Bruce Wayne saving the world now, sir?" He asked.

"Not the world, Alfred, but maybe one man," Bruce said.

"Why him, sir?"

"Because…" Bruce glanced at the closed bathroom door again. "Because I have a house full of rooms and a closet full of shoes and he has nowhere to go and nothing on his feet."

"I see, sir." Alfred paused and Bruce met his gaze. "Shall I take he will be staying for breakfast then, as well?"

Bruce laughed softly. "Yeah, he'll be staying for breakfast as well."

"Very good, sir."

"Are you okay with him staying here, Alfred?" Bruce asked. "He could try to kill us in our sleep."

"I'd like to see him try, Master Bruce. By the looks of him, that young man wouldn't be able to best a fly."

"He was rather skinny."

"Quite, sir." Bruce heard the shower start and Alfred moved around him to place the clothes he was holding in front of the closed door. "Shall I make an early lunch then, sir?"

"Yes, please, Alfred. Lunch sounds good."

Alfred paused at the doorway to the house. "You're sure of this, sir?"

Bruce thought of Charlie, shivering in the rain, barefoot and hopeless. "Yes. Very sure."

Alfred offered his shoulder a slight pat as he passed him and moved into the house. It felt good to be helping someone as Bruce Wayne, someone who wasn't faceless and nameless and only saw Batman.

Bruce would be cautious, but deep down he was hoping that something would come of this. He hoped that maybe he and Charlie could become friends. Maybe he was wishing for too much, maybe Charlie wouldn't like him, or wouldn't stay, but Bruce was willing to make the effort. It had been a long time since he'd had a friend.