2. Kevlar suit and puppy-printed scrubs

Batman doesn't come the following night. Nor the following week. It's not really a surprise, all things considered. Julia didn't actually expect him to come back because, hey, it's Batman. Seeing his reaction when she told him to get it checked was enough of a clue for her to know that she'd never see him again. The fact that he had been standing there in the first place was a miracle in itself.

Honestly, it was for the better. She really didn't need to add the Batman to the list of things that have her freaked. Well. More than he already does. Or has. Who just picks up a knife stabbed into their shoulder? She'd had to scrub his blood off of her sink. Truly a hazard considering his whole secret identity shtick. Why he'd decided to risk it, well, she didn't know. Why she had, well...

Julia isn't easily spooked, contrary to popular beliefs. Twitchy, at all times anxious, sure. But she's a veterinarian, she has to be the one with the heart of steel in that room, whether she's helping birthing puppies, or putting an elderly cat down.

She thinks there was a sort of poetry to her work, seeing life and death so closely. Something that has to do with that Lion King quote that's hanging on her poster in her office. She also knows she couldn't have been a doctor. Seeing it with animals is sometimes enough for her to go home and cry for hours, so in humans – she would've been eaten alive. Which might be why the worst thing that came out of helping the Batman that night is the constant worry that follows her.

Julia hopes Batman isn't getting septic shock somewhere in the city.

After another evening of ignoring the snickers when she walks in the room, wearing puppy-printed scrubs this time, she gets herself ready to walk home. Those scrubs made a kid laugh as she was putting his best friend to sleep. She thinks there are worse things she can get through for wearing funny scrubs than the odd comment, if it makes someone smile.

She has barely a few blocks to walk. Cold air hits her cheeks, reddens her nose. She forgot to bring a jacket, because that's what happens when you move back and forth between one place and another. Escaping means you sometimes forget the most basic things. Or that you leave pieces of yourself behind.

The hair at the back of her neck rises. Her eyes dart around, the unsettling feeling of being followed clinging to her bones. This happens often, too. But that's more the city's fault than Julia's, really. Even if she choses to walk home.

She hurries the pace. In turn, the sound of sneakers against the wet pavement behind her accelerates. She feels her adrenaline spike, biting into her cheek until she tastes blood. She doesn't look back to check – if someone is indeed following her, the best thing she can do is haul ass until she reaches her apartment complex.

Her mind tricks her, and suddenly she feels breathing on the back of her neck, hands ready to reach for her, forcing herself to think that it's all in her head and that the man sounds far enough, while also hurrying – into a near run. She doesn't know his intentions, whether he wants money or... something else. She doesn't want to know. She wants – she needs to get home.

Julia starts to really run when she nears her apartment, hand reaching forward for the door handle, heart hammering in her throat when she unlocks it. She sees him – in the corner of her eyes, a dark figure that's fast-walking towards her, trying to reach her before she can lock the door behind her.

She hears a loud thud, as if he just fell, and doesn't check as she locks herself in her apartment.

She stays with her forehead against the wood for a few minutes, panting. This one... was close. She's not particularly fond of it, but she'd be lying if she said it was the first time, too. But see previous statement about taxis – which she couldn't even afford if she wanted to, so really what was the point in worrying about that in the first place.

She thinks she hears faint sounds from outside, but doesn't open the door to check. Whatever that person is going through, he can deal with it alone. She realizes she has sobs lodged in her throat, and swallows them down. Worse things have happened to better people.

Edith opens her door an inch, peering into the dated hallway. "Everything okay, dear?"

Julia jolts away from the front door, turning around to stare at the elderly lady. Her dark hair has been whitened with time, her jovial brown face lined with generosity. Julia nods at her.

"Yeah– yes. Just had a scare." There was no need in worrying her, either.

The woman tuts, holds up a finger at her. "I told you you should take a taxi home from work. It's safer."

She tries a little smile to reassure her. "Well, I wouldn't bet on that. I've had weird experiences with taxi drivers."

"Oh, this city," Edith groans. "Well. As long as you make it home safe, it's all that matters to me."

"Thanks, Edith," she says, voice still a little breathy.

The older woman doesn't seem to buy her bravado as much as she'd want her to. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

She shakes her head. "No, no. I'll make myself some coffee upstairs."

"At this hour!"

"Decaf," she lies easily. "Promise."

Edith extends her hand, pats her cheek like she would her granddaughter, and nods. "You have a good night dear."

"You, too."

When her landlady closes her door, Julia heaves out a sigh. Too close. What would she tell Edith if something had happened? The poor old woman would never recover. Neither would Julia, all things considered, so. But Edith – her daughter had died, a few years back. She had no husband, no wife, no grandchildren. Julia knew what the old lady saw when she looked at her with her kind eyes. She couldn't very well take that from her.

She climbs up her stairs, fidgeting with her keys in her hands, opening the door. She needs that cup of coffee – she doesn't see a universe where she sleeps well tonight. Or any other night. Might as well seal the deal with a healthy dose of caffeine. Sometimes, she did wonder, though; was she really insomniac, or afraid of falling asleep, the visions it would bring to her?

Actually, she refuses to even ask herself that question right now.

Julia sets her bag on the kitchen table, tugs off the hair tie that was keeping her bun in place at the top of her head, threading her fingers through the thick mass of her black hair, rubbing her eyes with her other hand.

She moves towards her couch, ready to slouch on it before making herself coffee, and forget all about what happened, when the shadow outside her window catches her eye. No fucking way. She blinks at it, trying to convince herself that it's a trick of the light, but it's not.

The Batman is here, right outside her window, staring at her intently. When all she does is stare back, he gives a slight motion towards her locked window, asking her to open it.

Which, much to her own surprise, she does. Wasn't she just listing reasons why this couldn't be recurring? Luckily for him, Julia was an expert in forgetting.

"Um... hi," she tries, for lack of a better greeting. Maybe she'll get used to it eventually. Would she have time to get used to it? That's not a good idea. "Are you here to get your stab wound checked? Which you're incredibly late for?"

It sounds bad, and a little rude. But she's easily reminded that last time the Batman was here, he broke into her flat, spilled blood all over her sink, and had her worried he had an open artery, so really, it's not all that bad that her tone is a little clipped.

He stares at her. She thinks that it's his most effective way of conveying anything, despite the fact that it's unreadable half the time. Though she thinks she saw that look before, about two weeks ago. She'd just told him she was worried he had rabies.

...She would like to not be reminded of that.

"You said to come back," he answers, as if that did anything, voice so low she wonders if he's faking it. He's got to be, right? Or maybe a voice changer... "I did," he clarifies when she doesn't make a move.

"Oh. Oh! Right. Hey, so, that was two weeks ago."

"Eleven days."

Her frown and irritation deepen. "I said to not let a week pass. Eleven is way past seven."

Something jolts at the corner of his lips. Is that how he smiles? "I was busy. And I'm fine."

She shakes her head back and forth. "I'll be the judge of that, actually."

He doesn't ask to be let in, but Julia moves to the side all the same, allowing his heavily clad body into her living room, boots thumping so hard against the floor she doesn't know how Edith hasn't complained about the noise yet.

She moves away from him, actively making way for him. He should not be this imposing. It doesn't help that he's wearing the modern equivalent of an armor. "You know, if you'd actually been here a few minutes prior, I would've liked the help."

Because really, if the assholes camping outside her home and in dark alleys in her neighborhood knew that Batman was hanging around, she'd have much less scares like she did tonight. She can still taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth from when she'd bitten the inside of her cheek.

Julia has her back to him, bee-lining to her kitchen to get the first aid kit out. She doesn't see his reaction, but from the lack of answer, she wagers he doesn't care nearly enough to ask. He's the Batman, but he's not exactly charitable. At least, that's not how she'd describe him, but that's mostly in the sense that there are others out there who need help. She shouldn't be anywhere near that list. Besides, she didn't die or anything like that, so why is she complaining at all?

"Okay," she lets out to herself. "I'm going to see those stitches now, so do the um... unclasping thing for me."

"I'm fine," he insists.

"Well, you made it all the way here, so let me check anyway so it wasn't for nothing."

She seems to realize his little predicament at the same time, when she notices Batman tense up seconds before she does. Under the shoulder plate – there's a sort of innersuit, the fabrice she cut through the night he showed up with a knife stuck in his shoulder. It's stitched back now, but his cowl is placed over it, fastened in a way that if she wants to access his shoulder, he'd have to take it off.

She makes a face at him, at his cautiousness. Though she understands it, it's really useless – "You don't think if I wanted to know your identity I would've yanked that cowl by the horns while I had a needle stuck in you?" she asks, more rhetorical than actual question. "Or um, taken a sample of the blood you just... spurted all over my sink." He doesn't answer, barely twitches. "I can turn around, if it comes to it."

He stares at her with an intensity that has her pinned down, and she sees the way in which he wonders if it's worth the risk. Honestly, after deciding that her hippocratic oath extends to Batman, Julia finds this a little tedious, sighing and looking around her kitchen for a dishcloth.

"Okay, look," she starts. "I'll just tie this around my eyes while you'll get ready. And I'll turn around. I'll even go to another room if you want. Does that work?"

She watches him intently as he tilts his head ever so slightly forward. She takes it as a nod. Or at least, as close as she's getting to one. Sighing to herself, she brings the rag to her eyes – thanks her lucky stars that it's a clean one, and begins to tie it around her head.

"Ow, shit–!" she lets out when she feels her hair caught in the beginning of her knot, ripping some of it out. "Okay, I promise I'm not that sensitive, but I think half my hair is caught right now. Give me a second."

If they're going to keep this up, she'll be bald in two months. She rips some more hair out, grinds her teeth not to wince. It's embarrassing enough as it is.

"Let me."

She flinches, his voice closer than she expected him to be. She thinks she feels his breath against the side of her head. Hesitantly, she lets him take a hold of the cloth, notices the fanning sensation of his breathing move to back of her neck as he ties it neatly – not a single hair stuck to it. She ignores the trail of goosebumps he leaves behind as he moves away.

Julia braces her hands against the sink – turning her back to him. She hears the odd groan and grunt as he gets ready. Yet another sigh goes through her nose, shaking her head. What has this evening turned into? She was getting chased down the street not ten minutes ago, and now the Batman was here, and she was meant to dress his wound again.

She needed to fix her sleep schedule if she ever wanted to get used to this. Does she want to? Does she have a choice? ...Would she make the right one?

"Okay."

She all but tugs the rag off of her eyes, blinking to adjust her gaze to the light. Batman has only revealed his shoulder, nothing to get too crazy about. Not that she would have. Her stitches are still in place – most of them. One or two undid themselves in the course of the last few days, but it's overall clean. No redness or foul odor to indicate infection, or anything like that.

Even if it's just his shoulder, as she probs and inspects it, she does take the time to admire his skin, white and littered with even paler scars. It's definitely not his first stab to the shoulder, by the looks of it. How many times has it happened before?

She couldn't very well ask that. He was Batman, of course he was going to get hurt, and it wasn't her job to look after him. She thinks. Was it now? This was getting a tad too confusing for her taste.

"It's not looking too bad," she tells him. "It's healing nice. It would be quicker if you rested, because there's a stitch or two that ripped, but I don't think it bled through a lot." She washes her hands, puts on her gloves. "I'm going to take them out and redo them. I think you should be set for another week." She holds up her needle, staring at him intently. "And I did say a week."

He huffs, but she doesn't budge, starts taking out the stitches and cleaning the wound. "I told you. I have someone to take care of it."

She arches a brow towards his skin, not looking up from her work. "Well, you're obviously not going to see them, so." So she thinks she might as well be that someone now. "You can always come here."

She feels his gaze harden on her, somehow. At least, she can guess it does, with the silent question that hangs in the air; 'Can I?'

She heaves a sigh, starting to sew his wound back up, and the usual instinct to talk through it. "You didn't answer my question last time."

"Which one?" comes his usual rough answer.

She thinks she's smiling in amusement. If it's not that, it's irritation. "Why a bat?"

He stays silent, and she thinks that's as far as he'll go about the matter – but she is truly curious about it. Bats can be scary, but it's an odd animal to dress up as. Mind you, all animals are odd to dress up as, but at least a wolf would be a little bit more intimidating.

Considering how many times she jolted around him, maybe it wasn't a bad thing, all things considered. Thought it would explain the little horns, making them ears...

"I used to be scared of them."

Her eyes flick to him for a second, finding him already staring, like she expected. She doesn't say anything as she turns back to her work, tying a stitch into place, humming to herself. "See? Rabies carriers," she muses a few seconds later. "Scary."

His upper lip twitches in what she guesses is his usual cryptic smile. "...What about you?"

She frowns. "What about me?" She follows his gaze to her scrubs, and snorts. "Well, I'm not afraid of puppies, but they do tend to make kids laugh. Sometimes, it's the only thing that they can fall back on, so." She feels her cheeks heat up the longer he stares at her. "I do have normal clothes back at my other flat. This one only has pyjamas."

Thinking about it, it was almost funny. The way he dresses to scare people, and she does to reassure them. She sees the puppy print of her scrubs over the dark of his kevlar suit, shaking her head.

He remains silent for a moment. "Two apartments?"

She hums. "This one is technically my ex's, but we share the lease and I don't have enough to get a new apartment yet. Break-up was... sudden." She shudders, thinking back to all the times he had cheated on her without her knowing. "But needed. I think I'll trade your rabies for whatever he had coming for me."

He seems to take the hint, lip twitching again. "I don't have rabies."

"Yes, we've had that conversation before. Not knowing before it's too late and all that..." She smirks to herself. "Don't worry. I'm not even scared of actual bats, so."

He surprises her by following up on her statement again. "Why not?"

"Well," she starts, licking her lips. "We had some back at the orphanage I was brought in. The Waynes' old mansion," she adds, and she thinks he tightens a little. "They were more afraid of us than anything. A boy I knew used to capture them for fun." She keeps the second half of her sentence hidden – he used to kill them, too.

Julia can't count the nights she'd spent crying over those little bats. There was no reason to kill them, either – they never got close to them enough to really scare them. It was just... vicious. She hated that kid.

She dresses the wound with gauze and tape again, before tapping his shoulder, more as a reflex than anything else, to tell him, 'all done.'

Wordlessly, he reaches for the rag, and ties it around her eyes again, suffers silently through the caught hair. She waits patiently for him to put his suit back into place, and the tap on her own shoulder that tells her she can put the rag down.

He's still as intimidating, towering over her, but this time Julia has confirmation that there's a man of flesh under there. She didn't have enough time to consider it before, feeling like the clock was ticking and too panicked to actually reflect on it. It was a little more unnerving, if anything.

She thinks about it again – the stark comparison of them. The scrubs and suits, her name and the monicker he used.

"My name's Julia," she lets out in the silence. "Since you're apparently equipped to come back, I thought you might want to know it." He doesn't nod, barely even acknowledges her, but she knows he heard her.

He doesn't move to leave, which makes her a little uneasy, wondering what's meant to come next. She licks her lips, scolds herself for the sudden anxiety that seizes her for a reason she can't quite fathom right now. The last time, he just upped and left, so... She doesn't have much to go by.

"I can make you coffee, if you want, or–"

"I was there, ten minutes ago."

Her sentence forgotten, she stares at him. It takes her all but two seconds to realize what he's saying, and connect it to the loud thump she heard before hiding inside her apartment complex. She licks her lips, blinks, not knowing what to do about that information.

It becomes abundantly evident too, that he really wasn't here for the stitches. He just followed her directive, but really, he just wanted to make sure she was fine. Did he even expect her to notice him looking through her window? Because she doubts he planned on spending more than two seconds here. She's not sure what to make of that.

"Thank you," she settles on saying, cheeks flaming again.

He shrugs in answer, which is perhaps the clearest sign of emotion he's ever given her. "At least you had your windows closed this time."

"Hey!" She snaps her gloves off, shoving them in the trash, grateful for the subject change. Things are easier when they're forgotten. "That was my ex. I only get chased down the streets."

"You should take a taxi home. It's safer."

"Can't afford it, Bats," she laughs to herself. "Besides, there's a good chance it'd just make it easier for them to kidnap me, so... Guess I'll stick to my five minutes walk."

He narrows his blue eyes at her, but doesn't say anything else. She doesn't ask him if he wants coffee again – she cannot really picture him drinking coffee from one of her mugs, at her kitchen table anyway.

Besides, he's already walking back towards her window, after a single nod at her, which she takes as a 'thanks' because she thinks that's how close she's ever getting to one.

She steps after him like she did last time, staring at him behind the open window. "A week," she reminds him. "That's seven days. Not eleven. And definitely not more."

Another lip twitch, and he disappears into the night.

Author's Note: This is like,, Julia realizing she's made herself essential (he came back once) at work (it's definitely not her job) and it's making me giggle a little... I fear I'm not normal about them at all and the fact that it's chapter 2 is a little terrifying !

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