Title: Gotham Knights: Two Sides, Two Stories (Part 1 of 4)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: After seeing Smallville for a zillion times already, I began to think one day what a Gotham based fan fiction would be like, and at first, I was thinking high school like Clark, but there would be no way that that would ever work: Bruce Wayne goes off 'soul searching' all over the globe and doesn't come back until he's in his twenties. So, the entire Batman as a teen thing wouldn't work. Then again, for some reason, I always pictured Bruce as older than Clark anyway, due to his outlook on life in the comics/animated series. Yeah, that's partly due to his parents getting murdered, but Bruce just seemed... older. More mature. Thus making Bruce the age he is in this fiction, 23. And since I always pictured her to be younger than Bruce, Selina is 19. Therefore, the "young Batman" angle could still work, and still run parallel to the Smallvile time frame. Anyway, I want to openly say, this fic is NOT a ripoff from Batman Begins, which I haven't even seen yet. I was thinking of this idea for almost a year now, before I even knew Batman Begins was going to happen, around the summer of last year, and this isn't the same plot at all, not entirely. Yes, I know, to stay true to the comic books, it needs to be similar, but not identical, and that's what I plan to do. So, without further adieu, here we go! The first part of the first fiction of the Gotham Knights Extended Fictions! Enjoy!
Summary: In the shadows of the night, two creatures of the night are born, and their lives are forever intertwined.

Dark. It was dark, and it was raining. He could smell it, even in the musty, industrial smell of the huge city. Rain had a specific smell, sharp, crisp, clear, and it made everything clearer, natural, and earthen. It gave clarity, and a hushed sound at the same time. Although he didn't know it then, every raindrop that fell would become burned into his mind for all eternity, and hush his screams as the two people he loved fell to the ground, cold and dead on an April morning.

Two shapes were laughing, and one of them was a woman and, more appropriately, his mother. A gentle, kind woman, she wore a simple, ivory overcoat that was simply elegant, just as she was. Her laughing azure eyes caught the light in even the darkest corners, and continually became the life of every event. Good natured, she was more than just a trophy wife for her husband; no, Martha Wayne was far from a display case-worthy award. She was outspoken, an advocate for female rights, setting the example that women too could do good in the world from a more offensive perspective. As popular as her counterpart, Martha was honest, and she was cunningly smart, often pointing out things her husband tended to miss, and never settled for second rate; her motto was always to succeed, no matter what you did, and if something was worth doing, then do it well.

It was in her memory which drove her son to later become something more than just himself.

The other figure was bundled in a dark brown overcoat like the boy's own small black one, the red scarf around the man's neck flapping slightly as he moved. Doctor Thomas Wayne, the man his son wanted to be like when he was older. An accomplished doctor, billionaire and philanthropist, with kind, dark blue eyes and a prominent jaw, Thomas had a vision for his family, one that he often voiced and included their future cemented in stone: he was done being the successful surgeon he had previously been, and wanted to devote his time with his family, his wife Martha, and his only son Bruce. He loved his family very much, and now that his fortune had been built and the fledgling Wayne Enterprises had been built from the ground up, he was done with business deals and the long hours, with the huge successes and the overwhelming losses. He was done saving lives with his bare hands; he'd continue doing the best he could with his money, and never facing the fear of having his own son, or his own wife there on the surgery table.

Little did he know that, like Milton said, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray". It's a lesson that would take Bruce a lifetime to figure out.

The Mark of Zorro had but moments before concluded, all three of them walking gaily towards where they parked the car, when a figure approached them, a gun in his hand. His eyes were like snake eyes, that much was true: Bruce found he couldn't move, couldn't think, frozen in fear as the madman took a hold of his mother's pearls and yanked hard.

Then a quick movement from his father and... Oh god! Shots fired! Shots fired! BANG! BANG! Two shots, and blood gushed everywhere, two bodies falling to the street, with Bruce not far behind, falling to his knees and crying... crying... Dead. They were dead, and the little boy could only watch as the madman got away, he got away, and he didn't do anything! He didn't, he couldn't! He was... only a boy...

Startled from his sleep, billionaire Bruce Wayne, now twenty-three, awoke from a restless sleep, breathing hard and rasping breaths before he finally calmed down, settling back down into his mountain of feather pillows on his bed. It was happening again. He was torturing himself in his sleep for the fifth time this week, the nightmare coming back to him right when he didn't want it to, and one glance at his clock made him groan again. Five A.M. Not good.

Sleepy blue eyes stared at the ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest. Why now? Why were these dreams haunting him now? Why now? He just got back from the Orient, Siberia and Brazil three weeks ago, trying to settle into the life of a bachelor playboy by day, and hunting down Gotham's lowlifes by night. Something was calling out to him, something in the darkness that he couldn't explain. It wasas if something was supposed tohappen, or he was supposed to be something more than just the Batman, but he didn't know what exactly that was.

He didn't quite know, but he'd find out. One of these days.

At the same moment, another figure was just waking up for the day, her arms stretching upwards towards the ceiling and cracking her shoulders and neck. Rolling her shoulders back, the woman eased out of bed, leaving the warmth of comfort and trying not to wake her roommate as she prepared herself for her first job.

The life of Selina Kyle was, in one word, boring. Nothing held any excitement for her as she went from part-time job to part-time job, often struggling to make ends meet in the noisy, busy city of Gotham. Since fourteen, she'd been an orphan, her mother killing herself and her father drinking himself to death, but that never seemed to slow her down. She was better than them, and she knew it; one of these days, she was going to go places, be somebody, and she hoped that, one day, she'd finish being only mediocre, and make her way in the world.

For now, she just had to survive waitressing the six-thirty shift at Sloppy Joe's House of... what else? Sloppy joes.

Groggy, she felt around her nightstand for her glasses and put them on, feeling around for a brush to comb out the knots in her long, light brown hair. She'd recently taken to dying her locks, and found light brown to be her favorite, bringing a nice contrast to her face. It suited her, and went nicely with her dark blue eyes. She turned heads, and for the moment, that was all that mattered.

The more heads she turned, the more money she made.

Her waitress uniform was already set out in the bathroom, and all she had to do was start up the shower. It was going to be a long day, like every other day in her long and boring life.

And not for the first time did she wish she was something more.

Already awake, Bruce hurried up and dressed, trying to get a grip over himself after remembering. It wasn't the first time that it had happened: he'd been experiencing the same thing since the event occurred, but for some reason, this time seemed different. Was there something about today that was meant to be important? Was something going to happen?

He sprinted down the wide banister, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as his confidant and friend, the loyal butler Alfred Pennyworth, appeared from a doorway leading into the kitchen, a tray of golden brown pancakes, complete with strawberries and whipped cream on top of them; orange juice sloshed from side to side in a delicate china glass next to the plate. "Good morning, Master Bruce. I hope you're not too eager to face the day without eating breakfast first."

"Alfred, you know I'm never too busy for your pancakes. Gotham could be completely on fire, and I'd still drop everything for a bite."

"I'm not sure if the Gotham Police Department would appreciate that, Master Bruce," quipped the butler, letting his charge take his morning meal from the tray. "After all, you do tend to bring the most unsavory, psychotic and criminally insane villains to justice."

"Thank you, Alfred." He smiled casually. "Nice to hear."

Alfred smiled back, enjoying the light-hearted banter. It wasn't often that the younger man was in a mood other than brooding; since his parents died, there wasn't much happiness and enjoyment in his life. He just kept driving himself, pushing himself, trying to be more than he was, and sooner or later, that was going to cost him. The butler didn't ever want it to get to the point where being the vigilante hero was going to be Bruce's entire life, but little by little, day by day, it was looking better and better.

He would dread the day when it happened, and painfully grieve for another parting Wayne.

"Alfred?" He looked up, almost guiltily, as if Bruce had read his mind. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir. Just speculating your future."

That was a puzzling remark. "My future?"

"Yes, your future. More importantly, I'm thinking of what exactly you will be doing with the rest of your life, and if you'll continue masquerading as Gotham's Greatest Detective instead of living normally, like everyone else."

From Alfred, that was probably the oddest sentence he had ever heard, and Bruce frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry sir, but one of these days, I'm afraid you'll be risking your life as the Batman, and cease to be Bruce Wayne entirely. I can tell that being your alter ego is placing you closer and closer to the pit you almost fell in when you discovered the cave, and I hate to see your life suffer because of a vendetta you vowed to your parents."

"Being Batman is what gives my life purpose, Alfred. I had nothing to devote myself to until my parents were murdered in front of me."

"Honest, Master Bruce, would you even consider living a normal life? Without the masks?"

"We've been over this time and time again since I got back. You know that's not an option anymore."

Alfred sighed, resigned. "Yes, we have, haven't we? And as much as I would rather like to entertain flirtatious women with my intellect and charm, I suppose I will have to consent to the Bat costume, complete with bullet holes."

The billionaire smiled again, amused. "Thank you, Alfred."

"For what it's worth, sir, I do hope there is a Mrs. Bruce Wayne in the picture when you retire."

He sighed, uncertain. "I hope so too, Alfred. Of course, it's going to be a challenge to find a woman who can deal with Batman."

"It's a challenge for anyone to deal with Batman, sir."

"Ha, ha, very funny. Anyway, what's in store for me today? Run the itinerary by me again." Sitting down on the bottom step, his slim, quick fingers gripped his fork as he began eating, savoring every bite of breakfast cake. "And man, Alfred, you really outdid yourself when you made these. Have they always been this good?"

"I added a slight bit more milk and vanilla. But may we get back to the point?" The butler took a pad of paper and a pen out of his right jacket pocket, flipped open the leather black cover on the pad, and pointed at a few things with the writing utensil. "HerriTek is anxiously awaiting Mr. Fox's proposal to help fund the independent space program they're trying to negotiate with Japanese investors. Mr. Fox has asked you to personally give it to them."

"Ah, the old 'man-of-humble-upbringing' scheme. Show everyone you're not afraid to talk to the little people... and risk your life in public, and earn their respect. Tell me, how many assassination attempts have I been involved in now, Alfred? Five?"

"As Bruce Wayne: four. As the Batman: over thirty-five. Per day."

Bruce shook his head, amused. "I hope Lucius has a good reason why it had to be me to do this boring stuff. Anything else?"

"You have a ten-thirty appointment with the board to discuss your objectives for the coming fiscal year. And Mr. Palmer has an appointment to discuss Wayne Enterprises' future in the field of artillery. Apparently, he believes that if Gotham should ever be in any real danger, we should all be better prepared and have bigger guns."

"And the answer to his proposal would be no," he said flatly, dead serious. "My father paid in blood to create this company, and it was a bullet that took his life. Absolutely not. I'm not going to fund any project that even remotely deals in what killed him."

Alfred nodded, proud of his morals. "Very good, sir. Oh, also, I have to call the dry cleaners for your tuxedo, and the catering service. Tonight is your 'welcome back to Gotham' party."

The billionaire groaned, taking a few more bites of pancake. "I hate parties. I don't do social events."

"I know you don't sir, but that was the price you paid to be Batman. You sold your public life for your personal one. I'll call Morrigan's Catering as soon as possible." Alfred nodded once, then turned to leave, motioning to the kitchen with one hand. "When you're done with your meal, Master Bruce, I expect to find those dishes in the sink, and not in your study downstairs."

His charge smiled, and ate another bite. "You're the best, Alfred."

"I try."

RING-A-DING! It was three hours past six-thirty, and she was almost ready to kill that bell, the one which rang every time someone strolled into the diner, looking for coffee or a sloppy joe sandwich that the store was famous for. For some God forsaken reason, they served them twenty-four/seven, no matter what time it was. It didn't make sense at all: people wanted other things than greasy, dripping meat slapped on a bun.

But Selina had already given up trying to argue the point. The first time she did, it somehow insulted the manager and she ended up on the street without a job. Thank God they gave her another chance when she apologized.

Surprisingly, as soon as she cursed the bell under her breath and resumed cleaning the top counter, a body plopped down in the barstool in front of her, and a sunny, bright voice piped up. "Wow, looks like you're working hard."

She smiled, and it didn't take a rocket science to guess who dropped in to say hi. "Yeah, well, they don't trust me with the grill, Harl. They're afraid I'll burn too many damned sloppy joes."

Harleen Quinzell, psychologist in training, was a fun loving but serious girl, studying at Gotham U. for her graduate's degree; but that didn't stop her from teasing her best friend. Clad in a black and red business suit complete with pantyhose and red high-heels, she grinned, her baby blue eyes sparkling behind tortoise shell glasses. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Prof. Watson has suggested me for Arkham duty! Isn't that exciting?" She was literally bouncing in her seat with bubbly enthusiasm. "I get to psych the patients!"

Selina laughed, shaking her head and leaned her elbows on the tabletop, her face in her hands. "Harl, you're nuts. Only you would get excited over meeting the criminally insane. I swear, one of these days, you're going to end up falling in love with one of those psychos."

"No way. I keep strict, doctor-patient confidentiality. I promise."

"Yeah, sure..." She tapped a few fingers on her cheek before sliding away, fixing her white apron over her black T-shirt and khaki shorts. "So what'll it be? Can't have you coming in here without buying something first."

"What do you got?"

"Well, let me see. We have coffee, coffee, orange juice, coffee, grape juice, milk, coffee and OH! Look! Coffee!" She gripped a pot off the burner and flourished it, exaggerating her movements and still managing not to spill a drop. "Guaranteed to strip the meat off your bones, give you a heart attack and stunt your growth, all at the same time."

"Coffee, then! I don't mind."

"De-caf for you, it sounds like." She winked at her roommate and reached for a mug. "So tell me, what exactly is going on in that university you attend?"

"That you should be attending, as of this moment?"

Selina groaned, waving it off with the coffee pot, handing her friend the mug in her hand three-fourths full. "No way. C'mon, Harl, we've been over this before. I dropped out of college because I couldn't afford tuition. Plus, I'm living the high life. I'm doing things."

"Like what? Waiting on tables and waiting to rot?" Harley shook her head, saddened. "You could be doing so much more than this, girl. You could be getting a degree in whatever you want, but no, you're just blowing it. You could afford the tuition if you tried."

"That's the thing, Harl: I do try. I try my damnedest, and it doesn't make a bit of difference. I barely make enough to support the two of us and pay my share of the rent! I work three jobs, and I would work four, but hey, a girl's got to sleep and have her own hobbies." She played with her rag a bit more, wiping up an already spotless counter. "I've got to pay Ted for the kick-boxing and boxing lessons he gives me, as well as all the aerobic stuff we do together. Between that, and all the dead-end jobs I have, it's a wonder I have any time to sleep anymore."

The psychologist smiled sadly. "You know as well as I do that you don't sleep well, not at all. I can hear you tossing and turning at night."

"It's just... I keep getting this feeling that I'm supposed to be somebody, you know? I'm supposed to be someone I'm not, and I have no idea who that is! I'm supposed to be something... bigger. Greater. Better. I just wish I knew what it was."

A smaller, warm hand stopped hers from cleaning with the rag, and baby blue eyes met slightly darker azure ones. "You'll figure it out, Selina. Don't worry; you'll figure this out."

"Oh! Master Bruce!" called a voice from down the hall, "Mr. Dent would like your presence at a Sloppy Joe's House of Sloppy Joes, one of those classic, 'shiny' diners, for morning coffee this morning at ten. I forgot to mention that to you earlier this morning, due to your voracious appetite for my pancakes."

Bruce tied a slate gray tie around his neck, and smiled fondly, remembering one of his oldest friends, Mr. Harvey Dent, attorney at law. It would be fun to see old friends again, and he'd never been to Sloppy Joe's Diner before. This might be fun after all... "Sure, Alfred, I'll go ahead and meet him there. I'm sure we can find the way if he points it out."

"I'll get him on the phone, sir."

"Thanks."

Selina flipped her glasses down from off the top of her head, and glared at the receipt in her hand. "Umm, so what again?"

The customer, probably the billionth that had graced her presence in the past hour, scowled furiously, jabbing their finger at the piece of paper. "You gave me the wrong receipt."

Puzzled, this somehow didn't register. "Wait, what? I know this is the right one, because I made it out to you myself. Now, what exactly is the problem?"

"It's the wrong one! You charged me two cups instead of one!"

"Sir, you DRANK two cups and there ain't no free refills. Go to Mickey D's and get yourself a happy meal and a coffee there, and you can have all the refills you want. Better yet, get me one too, before I kick your--"

RING-DING! God, that bell is going to die. But before a word escaped her mouth, she couldn't help but glance at the incoming customer. He was built like an athlete, muscular in all the ways that counted, a shiny black briefcase in his hand. Dressed in a white, pinstripe suit, he had no sense of fashion, mixing an argyle green and orange tie with his ensemble, and his shiny, black leather shoes were like new; even the scratches didn't have a scratch on them. His hair was slicked back in a casual but business fashion, and he promptly plunked down in a bar across the way; he had the posture and wandering eyes of someone who was expecting a friend, colleague, or business associate, and his jaw was set, stiff like stone. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who joked or took joking lightly, and Selina shivered when he met her eyes.

She promptly amended the enraged customer's bill, knowing that somehow or another, the diner was getting gypped and it was coming out of her paycheck, and, with a final pat on Harley's hand, strode over to the man and took a pen and receipt pad from a pocket in her apron. "Can I help you, sir? What would you like today?"

He shook his head and smiled slightly, something she instinctively knew was rare for him. "Can you wait a few minutes? I have a friend meeting me this morning, and then you can get us both at the same time."

The young lady nodded, understanding, and smiled back at him. "Ok, no problem. I'll just wait for awhile."

Alfred drove like a grandfather, almost like he was trailing a funeral procession, and Bruce groaned in the back seat, anxious to get to this diner Harvey was meeting him at. "How far is it to the diner again, Alfred?"

"Oh, about another few blocks, sir," came the reply. "I'm sure we'll make it in time."

"Alfred, it's almost 10:15."

"Alright, so we won't make it on time. I can assure you though, Master Bruce, Mr. Dent won't mind if you're late."

The younger man shook his head, amused. "The best things come to those who wait, huh?"

"Indeed. Besides, it is my opinion, that Mr. Dent could use a little bit more patience. I've seen him when he's cross examining witnesses and he does tend to jump to some of the most audacious conclusions."

Then again, that was Harvey for you: stoic for the most part unless you were either a friend or the enemy. Then, a person came to see one side or the other of his personality: the kind gentleman of the court, or one of hell's own demons, ready to cut you to pieces in a matter of moments. Harvey had always been that sort of way; as a survivor of child abuse, it was hard for him to turn his life around. When he did, though, it was still hard to shake off what had happened to him, even after all these years.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. "Where is it, Alfred?"

"Oh, about another block or two due west, sir. Why?"

"Thanks." Gripping the handle of the car door, the young billionaire stepped out onto the pavement, and slammed the panel shut, waiting a few moments for Alfred to roll down the window. "I'll just run ahead and meet him there. Thanks for driving me this far though."

"May I remind you, Master Bruce, that if you do indeed run, to slow your pace down? I think it would be awfully suspicious if someone noticed you ran as fast as Batman. You do, ah, have that same sort of build that he does, and people may recognize you and discover your secret."

"Don't worry about it. I still know I'm Bruce Wayne in the daylight," he joked, and started strolling away towards the diner. "I'll see you, Alfred."

The butler nodded and tipped his hat, smiling back. "Call me when you're ready, sir."

Selina was talking to Harley at the counter when she saw him for the first time, and what she noticed before anything else was his eyes. They were laughing, carefree, but there was also something within them that she couldn't quite place. Deep blue, they seemed like oceans full of mystery and torment welled within them, and she instinctively knew that, although this might be so, he wasn't one to show it. He didn't seem like the kind of man who was susceptible to delving into his own problems.

The rest of him was just as surprising. Like his friend, who he had sat down across from, he was built, but unlike the lawyer, it wasn't "muscle man" built. He was lean, with large forearms and healthy legs, both with more than enough sinew and strength, but he wasn't a bear or an elephant like Mr. Suit Jacket. No, he was more lithe, spring coiled...

"Like a cat," she whispered to no one in particular.

He was a jaguar of a man, a mane of black hair falling into his eyes. Everywhere he went, he seemed to be watching, observing, not quite living in the same manner or even the same world as everyone else. Although many couldn't see it, it was like he was an observer, like a tourist to the zoo, just watching, waiting, and expecting things to happen even if they didn't occur at that distinct moment in time. He was a prowler, an outsider, and the young woman could instantly identify and relate to that feeling.

Sometimes, she didn't feel like she fit into society either, but while she stuck out like a sore thumb, he blended in so much better than she did. Jaguar indeed.

A casual glance her way gave in to long pauses of silent stares, neither rude nor crude just... comfortable. Suddenly, she had an unnerving instinct to stare into his eyes, just so she could forget all her problems and feel safe, secure, and loved. The very thought of having such a thing after so long of doing without it was almost ludicrous.

After all, this guy, with his slightly casual demeanor coupled with an extremely expensive suit seemed way out of her league to begin with.

After a moment to gather her nerves, Selina was dazed for a few moments more, then, with Harley's hand patting her shoulder, she strode forward towards the table, and said shakily, "C-Can I help you? W-What would you like today, here at Joe's Diner?"

Smooth, Kyle, smooth, she mentally chided herself. Wonderful. Let the guy think you're an idiot before you even meet him. Great.

His partner fixed his gaze on her and smirked. "Well, what do you have?"

"Well..." She thought for a moment. "Obviously we have sloppy joes. This is Sloppy Joe's House of Sloppy Joes. And for some unknown reason, we serve them twenty-four seven, but then again if it was up to me, I'd only serve them at like midnight, where only--"

The guy she had her eye on laughed, and winked at her. "Oh really? I never would have guessed."

Was he flirting with her? Selena blushed crimson red. "We have other things, too. Pancakes, waffles, bacon and eggs..."

"We'll take two cups of coffee, Miss... Selina," replied the friendlier of the two, reading her name off her nametag. "Selina, huh? Pretty name."

"Bruce, are we here to grab a cup of coffee, or flirt with the waitresses?"

Then, it hit her: this was no ordinary man. Kyle, you idiot, you're serving coffee to Bruce Wayne!

Her eyes widened slightly at the realization, and he noticed. "Is there a problem, Miss Selina?"

Shaking her head, she tried to keep her mind set on her job instead of who she was serving. "No. I just didn't expect Bruce Wayne to order food in this diner while I was on duty."

Hearing his name escaping her lips seemed to jar him, as if he was breaking out of some sort of dream and rejoining reality. Shifting slightly, he looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well, believe me, it was a surprise to me too. I didn't exactly pick the place. Harvey here," he pointed, "did."

"Harvey Dent, miss. Attorney," he said curtly, polite. "but if you wouldn't mind, I think we'd like to have our coffee now."

Dazed, it took her a few seconds to realize she'd been standing there dumbfounded for several minutes. Selina blushed scarlet, and nodded. "Alright, I'll get it for you."

"Wait! Miss?" It was Bruce again. "What's your name? Your full name, I mean."

"Selina. Selina Kyle."

Turning back to the counter, she only had to take one look at Harley before she groaned loudly, and covered her face in her hands. "Tell me I'm dreaming."

Her best friend just snickered, observing the events as they took place. "He's cute, you know."

"And he's a billionaire. What the crap kind of a chance in hell do I have of dating a billionaire? The relationship would be doomed from the start."

"C'mon, Selina, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD?" She groaned again. "I'm a nobody. There's no way in hell a man like Bruce Wayne would even take a second look at me. Besides, I'm sure all he was doing when I was over there was being polite. He's a lady's man, you know."

Baby blue eyes met darker sapphire ones. "Yeah? You sure on that one? Because I could've sworn he was totally into you."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why? What do you know that I don't? Or is that your psychoanalyzing mumbo-jumbo again?"

"It doesn't take a psychologist to know he's totally crushing you." She gestured with her head and looked in the man's direction, waving to him when he caught sight of them. "He hasn't stopped staring at you since you walked into his line of vision. Trust me, Kyle, he's interested. Now if I were you, I'd keep it that way."

What was it about that girl that attracted him so? For at least half a minute, Bruce couldn't help staring at her, at the way she moved and the way she talked; she was so different than he was, so different than the women he was used to being around when he was living the high-life as the boy billionaire. While they were small, petite, and shy with little girly giggles, Selina was completely different. There was something in the tone of her voice and the way she held herself that seriously stood out in his mind, even though he couldn't think of it at the moment...

"Earth to Bruce, come in, Mr. Wayne." Harvey fanned a hand over Bruce's gaze and sighed heavily. "Not again."

"Wha...?" He'd forgotten about his friend entirely. "Sorry."

The other smirked wickedly, and shook his head. "I can't believe it: the illustrious Bruce Wayne is attracted to a regular, average, normal woman."

"Am not."

"Bruce, even a blind man could see that you have the hots for her."

Flustered, he still tried to refuse, but his efforts were weak, and half-hearted. "Do not."

"So, are you going to ask her?"

"Ask her what?"

The attorney rolled his eyes in disgust. "What do you think, boy billionaire? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

He changed the subject. "So why did you call me here in the first place?"

Harvey let it slide, but a sly gleam in his eyes gave Bruce the impression that he wouldn't let him off the hook THAT easily. "Can't an old friend meet another old friend for coffee at Joe's Diner without the latter friend being suspicious of the former?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because it's not in your nature, Harv. I can't even think of one moment where we've met over something other than business."

An eyebrow shot up. "What about the trip we took to Colorado? Denver in the middle of winter, with the best ski slopes and hot springs, and you're telling me you don't remember that?"

"Ok, so maybe I forgot that one."

"What about the time we went on the Euro trip when I visited you in London? As I recall, you had to ask permission from that Zazaran--"

"Zatara," corrected Bruce, memories flooding back to him. "And I was on the job at the time, might I remind you."

"Ah yes, the old 'work like a regular human being' gig." Shaking his head, the attorney fingered a few sugar packets he had taken from the serving basket on the table. "When will you ever learn that you're not a regular person, Bruce?"

He smiled. If only you knew, Harvey...

It was then that he felt her presence, and the young bachelor had to try hard to restrain himself from giving his feelings away in front of her. You'd think that being Batman would have gifted me with the ability to be stoic twenty-four seven... "Here you go, two black coffees, ready to do. Just don't sip them too fast, or else they're scald. Hot stuff does that every once in awhile."

Bruce's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, and it was only after a swift kick connected with his foot under the table that he even had the nerve to ask her, "Hey, Selina?"

She had started to walk away, but then she whirled around, slightly nervous. "Yeah?"

"Hey... would you like to see me... I mean, I want to... wait." He laughed lightly. "Let me start over again. I'm having this party tonight, sort of a 'welcome home' sort of thing for me, since I've been abroad, studying things and... things. And, I was wondering, I mean... if you could... I know you might... well... uh..."

She laughed. "It's alright. You don't have to say any more. I'd love to go with you--"

She's actually accepting? Wow...

"--but unfortunately, I have to work tonight."

That sunk his spirits slightly. "That's a really long shift..."

"What? Oh, no, it's not for Joe's. I have a couple jobs. Got to make money at a job somehow, and so far, I barely make minimum wage at one of them, let alone all three. I need them all in order to just pay the car insurance and my share of the rent in my apartment."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry; I'll be ok. I'll hopefully see you later?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "Now that I know Joe's is here, I should stop by more."

"Maybe you should."

"Maybe I will."

"Alright, STOP with the mushy stuff," groaned Harvey, smacking his forehead. "Miss Kyle, if you wouldn't mind? I'm afraid Bruce is heavily distracted by you."

She feigned shock, placing a hand over her brow. "Oh, surely not! How could I do such a fiendish thing like that?"

"I'll see you around, right Selina?"

"You can count on it." She winked, and strode over to her friend, calling over her shoulder to the two of them. "By the way, the coffee's on the house. Enjoy."

Harvey smirked, and nodded his head in her direction. "Marry her. She'd be good for you."

Bruce almost choked on his coffee. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't even know her yet. And I thought you didn't really like her that much."

"Oh my friend, I have a feeling you're going to get to know her very well. And I didn't say I didn't like her."

He shrugged. "I barely know who she is."

"So? That's not stopping you. It's your 'swinging bachelor' attitude; that, coupled with the fact that no girl is going to be your vision of 'Miss Perfect', and you've already lost the war of the heart before it's begun."

I just want someone who understand me, and who I am... and I'm not talking about Bruce Wayne... "Yeah, maybe. Still doesn't mean I have to put a ring or two on her finger."

"Get to know her first, and then put a ring on her finger. Trust me, I'm a good judge of character, and she seems to fit with you." Harvey stared into his friend's eyes for a moment and sighed, shaking his head. "She looks like the type of person who is as mysterious as you tend to be, lately. Ever since you came back, you've been... different. Changed. I don't know what it is, but maybe a girl is what you need right now."

Bruce's eyes drifted closed for a few seconds, elbows resting on the table while his chin drifted into his hands. "I don't know, Harv. I still think I'm still the same old me."

"I don't know... Anyway, listen, take her to a movie sometime. Don't be so uptight, and have fun."

"That would all have to be in the daytime..." He caught his friend's look and shrugged, indifferent. "I have a very... VERY active nightlife."

"Sure you do."

More than you know. "Yeah." A beeping on his expensive digital watch grabbed his attention, and he groaned, noticing how late he was going to be getting back to Wayne Enterprises for the board meeting. "Great. Looks like I'm going to have to take a rain check on the coffee and cut this chat short. The board needs me."

"The board always needs you. But I get what you mean." Harvey shook his friend's hand, and escorted him out of his seat, pulling him into an open hug.

Surprised, the billionaire checked him for a fever. "You sure you're ok? I could've sworn I felt your forehead get hot."

He waved it off and chuckled. "We've been friends for years, Bruce. Why shouldn't I hug a close friend? I consider you like my brother."

"And... I consider you one too, Harvey. I'm just surprised you did that. In public. I know how precious your reputation is."

"Screw the reputation. I'm allowed to have a private life. Anyway, you need to get going. I'll see you later, ok?"

Bruce nodded, and hugged him again. "I'll see you later, Harv." He strode past the counter, nodding towards the bouncy, red suited blonde on a stool next to the counter before sliding in front of the waitress he had had his eye on for the entire session. She had found her way to a stack of dishes, furiously cleaning them with a filth-ridden rag, it more dirty than the chipped and broken plates and cups. He tried not to notice as he strummed his fingers on the table, nervous. "Listen..."

She seemed antsy, but her tone carried a playful demeanor. "I've got a lot of work to do, Mr. Wayne. If you need something, I'll get somebody else to help you, and like I said before, coffee's on the house."

Still, her excuse made him jump at the chance he was provided more. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

A blush. "I have to work tonight. And I thought you already asked me that."

"Maybe I did, but then again, I don't know... I just really would like you to come. Would it be so bad to take a night off?"

"Yes. Taking a night off means I don't get paid. It's hard to get paid if you don't work."

He nodded, understanding. "Ok. Well, if you get off early, or change your mind..." A business card was drawn from his pocket, and she reached out to take it before he whipped it back, and started writing on it. "...here is my home address and phone number. But then again, you already know where I live: half the city does." Chuckling, the billionaire caught her eyes and smiled wide, folding the tiny rectangle in her open fingers. Their touch was electric. "I hope I see you there."

"Do you treat all the girls you meet like this?"

"No, only the special ones."

As he walked out the diner, his friend trailing behind after an hour and a half to finish his coffee, order a couple jelly donuts and finish the paper he purchased from outside, Selina was breathless. Why was Bruce Wayne, of all people, hitting on her? Was he the womanizer she had heard he was, or did he really seem to care? He'd invited her on a date! A DATE! To a party, with all the other rich, important people of Gotham, and she'd be his date. It was something she always dreamed of doing, and yet...

She had to work. Damn her life...

"Why aren't you takin' the night off, Selina? I'm sure Morrigan's could spare you for a night," said Harley, almost as if she'd heard Selina's thoughts. But that was the ways of the psychiatrist: always knew what you didn't, and knew what's best for you.

"I can't. I have to work tonight, because if I don't, then I won't get paid. The next two month's rent as well as half the car payment are ridding on this check, and I can't let Morrie down. He said this next catering job was going to be a big one, if he could land it, and he called about twenty minutes before you came around to tell me that he did it. He said I'll love it, and I'll get tons of tips, so this is an opportunity I can't pass up, not after being broke for so long... I need to pay you back for the car insurance stuff, and the last three months of rent--"

"Selina, you don't owe me anything. I'm just lucky my internship at Gotham Medical and in the psych ward pays well. And now, since they're sending me to Arkham, I'll get paid more, so don't worry about it! You'll be fine."

She sighed heavily. "I hate feeling inadequate."

"You're not inadequate."

"I am."

"Are not."

A truck pulled up outside, but neither one noticed. "Am too."

"Are not."

A plate slipped out of her hands and fell on the floor. "Crap. Butterfingers."

A voice from the back of the diner, her assistant-manager, Joe James Jr., screeched at her from the grill. "That's coming out of your paycheck, Kyle!"

"Wonderful. You see? I can barely hold down this job..."

Harley winked at her, and slung an arm around her shoulders from across the counter. "You're doing fine, Selina. Just wait, tonight'll-"

The tinkling of that infuriating bell went off again, only this time, it wasn't a customer, but a delivery man in the typical, brownish gray uniform of the GPS, the Gotham Postal Service. He was about middle age, a bushy mustache speckled like salt and pepper with gray hairs, and he was thin but strong. Five crates were stacked on his yellow dolly, and a brown clipboard was in his hand. Halting for a moment, he set the contraption upright, scratched his head, checked the address, and shouted. "Somebody here named Selina Kyle?"

Surprised, she raised her hand. "Me. What's this for?"

He gave her the typical 'duh' kind of look, and nodded his head towards the boxes. "Delivery. Sign here, here, here and here."

She followed his finger as it pointed out the spaces, and then he started the grueling work of putting his parcels on the counter, carefully, one after another, like he was setting up toy soldiers on a slanted floor. Every time he set one down, the contents inside clinked like muffled coins. What was all this? She asked herself, puzzled.

When he was done, he presented her with the receipt and an envelope, most likely from the person who sent everything. "It's been paid in full by the sender, so you owe GPS nothin'. Have a good day."

Who was this from? She opened the sachet and pulled out a note on the best quality stationery she'd ever seen. It was gold embossed, with a fancy wax seal, the letters pressed into it "BW". She opened this carefully, and was delighted with the scrolling architecture of various Roman pillars inscribed in ink on the page. It was in authentic Roman style, especially the scrolling ivy, cascading down the structures in graceful curves and falls. The same crest on the wax filled the bottom of the right hand corner, and the penmanship used was remarkably clean, clear, and exact.

The note itself was short, but still, it made her smile:

"Selina-

I thought you would be needing these, instead of the old chipped versions. Consider it a bribe to try and get you to meet me tonight.

Bruce"

Her smile grew wider when she took a kitchen knife and broke the packaging tape on one of the boxes and opened it up. Inside were beautifully crafted mugs, with the emblem of "Joe's Diner" on them, beautiful, new, and crisp. Silverware were also engraved at the tip of the handles with the same logo, and a knifing job to another box revealed matching plates with checkered, black and white boarders around them. It must have cost a fortune to make and make so quickly, but then again, that was never a problem for Bruce Wayne: he always had a way of making more money, and his already large cash flow was hardly wearing out...

Joey Junior poked his head out and gasped, incredulous. "Where'd these come from? Who sent these?"

Selina just smiled mysteriously, and said, "Someone who likes me, I guess."