Richie, still practically vibrating with residual excitement from the day’s unbelievable events, bounced around his new room, recounting every detail of the party to Bruce as he got ready for bed. He finally climbed under the covers, a wide, contented smile on his face. Bruce settled onto the edge of the bed beside him, a storybook in hand.

Bruce began to read, his voice a low, comforting rumble in the quiet room. He read about fantastical lands and brave knights, about adventures and triumphs, his eyes occasionally flicking from the page to Richie’s rapt expression. When he finished the last page and closed the book, Richie looked up at him, his gaze soft and earnest.

“You’re my favorite hero,” Richie whispered, his voice small but resolute.

He wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him close for a long moment, the warmth of the hug seeping into his very soul. He gently tucked Richie in, pulling the blankets snugly around him.

“I know,” Bruce whispered back, a quiet assurance that held all the love and acceptance in the world. “You’re mine too.”

Bruce stood, about to close the door and leave Richie to his dreams, when the boy’s voice stopped him again.

“I think Wonder Woman is too pretty to be beating up bad guys,” Richie innocently stated. “But Dr. Hailey is prettier, isn’t she?”

Bruce paused, taken aback, his mind scrambling for answers that wouldn’t betray a stutter. He cleared his throat.

“Well, Richie,” he managed, trying to sound casual, “Wonder Woman is indeed very… striking. And Dr. Hailey… yes, Dr. Hailey is exceptionally pretty too.” He avoided direct comparison, a subtle flush rising to his cheeks in the dim light.

Bruce continued, a faint smile touching his lips. “But Wonder Woman can handle those bad guys just fine. I’ll make sure if she ever needs a hand that she calls you, okay?” He winked at Richie.

Richie giggled and gave a thumbs-up. “Okay!”

***

Bruce finally closed the door, leaving it ajar just a crack, and headed downstairs to the family den, a more relaxed space than the grand living room, a place where he could unwind after a day filled with unexpected joy and profound changes.

He flipped on the television, the muted flicker of the news filling the room. He wasn’t really watching or listening; his thoughts were consumed by the incredible shifts in his life over these recent months. His mind drifted from the opening of the shelter, to Richie, to the party, to the Justice League’s surprising appearance.

Then, quietly and quite unexpectedly, his thoughts settled on Hailey. It surprised even himself, the ease with which she had occupied his mind.

He’d brought her here, given her a second chance, seen her rebuild a life dedicated to helping others. He admired her quiet strength, her quick wit, the way she handled Richie with such natural grace.

And, if he was truly honest with himself, he found himself increasingly drawn to her genuine warmth and the calming presence she brought to the often-austere manor. She was a constant, steady light in his chaotic world, and the thought brought a faint, unfamiliar warmth to his chest.

The soft click of the door to the den brought him out of his reverie. Alfred entered, carrying a silver tray with two steaming mugs.

“A penny for your thoughts, Master Bruce?” Alfred inquired gently, setting the tea down on a coaster.

Bruce took a mug, the warmth seeping into his hands.

“More like a million dollars, Alfred,” he said, a rare sigh escaping him. “These past few months… everything. The shelter, Richie, the court, the League showing up today… it’s been a whirlwind. A good whirlwind, mostly.” He took a sip of tea. “But my mind, lately… it keeps coming back to Hailey.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Indeed, sir? And what fascinating conclusions has the world’s greatest detective drawn about Miss Hailey?”

Bruce hesitated, then looked at Alfred, a vulnerability in his gaze rarely seen by anyone. “I… I don’t know, Alfred. She’s just… here. Always. A steadfast presence. She understands things without me having to say them. She doesn’t flinch. She helps. She makes this place feel… different. More open.” He paused, searching for the right words. “More like home, perhaps.”

Alfred nodded, his smile widening perceptibly. “It sounds to me, Master Bruce, like your thoughts have not just been occupied by Miss Hailey, but rather, by the undeniable truth that you are, quite possibly, in love with her.”

Bruce stiffened, the mug halfway to his lips. “Love?” he echoed, the word foreign on his tongue. He quickly regained his composure, though a tell-tale flush returned to his cheeks. “Alfred, that’s… that’s a strong word. She’s a colleague. A friend. A good influence on Richie.”

“And more, Master Bruce,” Alfred countered softly, his gaze unwavering. “Much more, if the way you speak of her, and indeed, the way you look at her, is any indication.”

***

Unbeknownst to both of them, Hailey was returning from the kitchen, a cup of hot cocoa in hand, intending to head upstairs. As she approached the open door of the den, she slowed, hearing Alfred’s gentle but clear voice.

She caught only a few words, a fragment of their conversation, but it was enough to make her freeze: “…in love with her.”

The implication hung in the air, a silent, shocking revelation.

Bruce… in love with me? How could that be? The questions swirled in her mind, a dizzying array of disbelief, hope, and uncertainty. Could it be true? Did he feel something beyond the professional respect and gratitude?

The very idea was overwhelming, fraught with complexities she hadn’t dared to consider. Her heart quickened, a confusing mix of exhilaration and apprehension.

As the conversation ended, Hailey quietly made her way to her room, her mind reeling from the fragment of dialogue she’d overheard.

***

Alfred, sensing Bruce needed space, quietly excused himself, leaving Bruce alone in the den.

Bruce’s thoughts were a confusing kaleidoscope, a dizzying whirl of images and realizations. Harley Quinn, the unpredictable, dangerous psychopath. Harleen Quinzel, the brilliant but broken psychiatrist, a victim of manipulation. And now, Dr. Hailey Smith, director of the Thomas and Martha Wayne’s Family Shelter, a woman dedicated to healing.

He thought of her warm smile, the way she often seemed to know what he was thinking before he spoke, her quiet competence.

Her eyes… her eyes were something else entirely—eyes that held both immense sorrow and incredible resilience, eyes that saw him, truly saw him, beyond the cowl and the billions.

He shook his head, pushing off the armrest of the chair as he stood.

“Love? That’s nuts!” But the world’s greatest detective, who had solved the unsolvable, who was the best at cracking cases and deciphering riddles, now found himself utterly helpless. He couldn’t figure out why his own heart was gravitating so undeniably towards her.

© Copyright 2026 J.R. Geiger. All rights reserved.