Midnight Craving?

The manor was silent. 

It was midnight when Bruce returned. Early by his standards, but he still felt the heavy toll of his work upon his back. Even as he lowered himself into the spacious bathtub of his master bathroom, Bruce could feel the chill of the night air tingling the hairs at the back of his neck. 

Bruce decided to focus on this silence. He focused on the way his body basked in the reflections of the water. The way the soft lighting of the lamps around him provided a blanket of yellow to settle about the bathroom, coating the floor with blurred shadows. 

He felt a blur himself. This bath was his limbo away from a job of violence, a job so never-ending, so needing of him. So taxing. 

To humour himself from this stillness, Bruce gave himself a mission. Yes, the most important mission of his life: acquiring a midnight snack. 

Quiet as his surroundings, Bruce crept out of the master bedroom, down the muted and moon-lit hallways of the manor, and into the manor's kitchen. Windows covered the tiled floor with white light, bringing shadows to an otherwise glowing scene. 

As he softly stepped over to the wonderous cookie jar, Bruce couldn't help to notice the starkness of the shadows, humouring himself further by imagining small creatures crawling around in them. He reached into the jar.

"Midnight craving?"

Bruce spun around at the words. His eyes locked on slender legs that blended with the darkness. He trained his gaze upward, searching for the face that matched the voice. It sounded almost strained.

The figure made his way slowly out of the shadows, face pale and deathly in the moonlight. 

It was him. His rival. His enemy. The cause of so many sleepless nights filled with frustration. 

It was Edward. 

Only this time, it was different. With his face illuminated, Bruce could see dark bruises forming. Edward's face was battered, red and raw. One arm propped against the counter for support made him slouch, as opposed to his usual grandeur. Gone was the smiling façade of a mad genius. A trickle of blood formed bright crimson where dark waves of hair fell over his forehead. 

It was rare to see him like this. So vulnerable. In pain. 

Bruce's brow furrowed as he quickly stepped forward. In this moment, his first thoughts weren't Riddler... or How did you get in. Instead, Bruce simply asked, "What happened?"

This earned him a small smile from Edward, who looked up at him and answered, "Concerned, Detective?"

Bruce examined Edward further; watched him close his eyes. 

The taller man's silence caused him to sigh heavily. Using his wrist, Edward gently nudged and then moved Bruce's hand, still burdened by the now forgotten cookie, up toward his face. 

Who knew the crunch of a cookie between a rival's weak teeth would generate a sound loud enough to unsettle the silence of the manor?

"Tastes just as I imagined..."

Edward swallowed with difficulty. His shadow trembled as he left. The empty space in front of Bruce felt to him almost palpable. He thought he could see his breath if he tried hard enough. 

Bruce stood alone in the kitchen. 

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