The milk had been delicious.
Not only had the milk been delicious, but she had worked hard for it. Harder than she would have if she had been more careful, but some things just couldn't be helped. In a place like Gotham, sometimes you had to take risks just to survive.
Okay, well, maybe taking that man's wallet wasn't a necessary risk, but damn it felt good.
The cat she called "Bobo" was one of her favorites. He was a beautiful, but ragged bicolor cat. He was missing a chunk out of his tail and his fur was matted down with dirt and slime. Maybe one could say that Selina saw something of herself in this cat, and that's why she was driven to take care of it. Or maybe she just had a weakness for her feline friends.
She stroked the cat lovingly as it drank from the tin of milk she had set down on the ground. Such a beautiful animal. What a shame it had to suffer out here on the streets, all alone. She wondered where the animal's mother was. Maybe she was off in the home of some rich businessman and was being lavished with attention. Perfectly at home and not at all worried about her son that's out on the streets, alone as he just tried to-
"Oh, come on, Tom, it wasn't that bad! It just-" The rest of the woman's words were drowned out as Cat scrambled up into the nearest fire escape to hide as she waited for the family to pass. They looked well-off. The man was wearing a stiff-looking suit, and the woman an elegant black dress under her coat. Cat saw the pearls glittering around the woman's neck and her eyes almost bulged. She started making a plan before she even knew that she had begun to move, her eyes scanning the darkness for ideas.
But then she saw the man. It was only a moment before he pulled a mask up over his face and he pulled a gun out of his coat pocket. She swallowed and resigned herself to sit back and watch. It was an unspoken rule of the city, after all. Don't interfere with anybody else's crimes. Especially if they're bigger than you.
She watched as he approached and collected both the man's wallet and the woman's pearls. She had hoped that maybe this man would be careless and not notice the pearls so she could swoop in and pluck them off of the woman's pretty little neck, but no dice. This was when she noticed the boy.
He was just as well dressed as his father, but twice as frightened. His father stood in front of him protectively and she watched him with curiosity. She wondered if he had any other family. If not, she could take him in. She could teach him the ways of the city and how to survive in it. She was lost in a daydream about all the adventures she and this boy could have - pickpocketing the unsuspecting, warming themselves by a trashcan bonfire. He needn't be alone. And neither did she.
Gunshots quickly stole her away from her reverie. The man and the woman lay dead. Two more lost to the city. She shook away her daydream. She didn't need anyone else, and this boy would just slow her down and make her life harder. She got up to leave. She looked up to see the boy quivering in fear as the man leveled his gun at him. It was another rule of Gotham not to kill innocent children. Of course, not many people abided by this rule, but the same could be said of the other rules as well.
She collected her half-empty milk jug. This was the stupidest thing she had ever done, and what a waste of a perfectly good jug of milk. She took careful aim and lobbed it toward the man in the mask. It struck him in the side of the head, and, while doing no damage, he had turned his gun on her. She ducked below the rail of the fire escape, but it offered little protection. Maybe she should have thought ahead. She was going to die, the boy was going to die, and all she had succeeded in doing was condemning herself.
However, Help came from a rather unlikely place. The boy, seizing his opportunity, had grabbed hold of the barrel of the gun and forced it downward just in time to keep the man from burying a bullet in her. She had saved his life, and now he had saved hers. The man tripped over the milk carton lying on the ground and ended up on his back, wrestling for control over the gun with the boy. The man was much bigger, but the boy's frantic flailing was a good distraction.
Yet another gunshot rang through the alleyway, but this time, the man cried out. He threw the boy into a heap of garbage and he bolted, clutching his arm. After checking to make sure that the coast was clear, she slipped down from her perch and made her way to the boy. He was a mess.
His hair was sticking up every which way from his battle with the masked man and his clothes, formerly so pristine, were now stained with the blood of his parents, and, to put the icing on the cake, he was now covered with trash. He was crying. Screaming at the heavens with all his little lungs could manage. She pulled him out of the garbage and dusted him off silently.
"W-who are you?"
"The name's Selina. But you can call me Cat. Just about everyone does." That was when the police cars pulled up. Right at both entrances of the alley, their sirens wailing. She should have heard them before. She should have been more careful. Of course, she could have escaped upward, but the cops were already approaching. They were both given blankets and set off to the side while they examined the crime scene.
They were soon approached by a rather young-looking man. He was dressed professionally and he squatted down next to them.
"Hello. My name is James Gordon, I'm a detective. What are your names?" Neither of them spoke.
"It's okay, you don't have to talk -"
"Bruce. My name is Bruce Wayne."
"Tell me what happened, Bruce." He told them about his parents being shot after they handed over their possessions. She sensed that he was about to mention her, but she nudged him and gave him a quick look, one that she didn't think that Gordon noticed, and ended his story.
"And your name, young lady?"
"I'd be less worried about my name and more worried about your choice in neck ties, if I was you." She heard Bruce stifle a laugh. Or maybe it was a sob. Gordon was about to respond when Bruce stood up suddenly and flew into the arms of an older man. She walked over to join them.
"Are you the boy's guardian, mister…?"
"Pennyworth. Alfred Pennyworth. And yes, I am, thank you. And I will be taking him home."
"And the girl? Is she not yours as well?"
"She most certainly is not…" Bruce kicked him in the shin. He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Alfred cleared his throat.
"As I was saying, she most certainly is not going to be left here alone! Bruce, Margaret, please come with me." Alfred put a gentle arm around each one of them and lead them both to an expensive-looking black car. He opened the door for them, and they shuffled in next to each other. Where the boy had been loud and grieving before, he now was silent. That was okay, though. Cat enjoyed the quiet. Alfred got into the front and soon they were off, leaving the police to take care of the cooling bodies of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
"Really? Margaret was the best thing you could come up with?"
"I could take you back, if you'd like."
"That's fine, you can let me off anywhere here."
"I'm sorry, young lady, but I can't do that. The three of us need to have a talk, the kind that's best over tea. I'm afraid that this isn't the best time anyway," he said, throwing a quick glance to Bruce in his rearview mirror.
"Suit yourself."
They sat in silence for the rest of the car ride. Well, almost the rest of it. Selina Kyle couldn't help but to gasp as they neared the single largest house that she had ever seen. It was surrounded by a wrought iron gate that opened as they approached. The house itself was four stories tall and scattered with so many windows that she couldn't count them all without losing track. There was a large balcony overlooking the front yard, which was expansive in itself and well-groomed. The trees around the property were bare, being that it was late November. This was all she had time to take in before they pulled up in front of the house.
Alfred led them both inside and sat them on a couch beside a large, blazing fireplace. The room itself was full of antiques and knick-knacks; none of which she cared for, but all of which might fetch her a pretty penny once she got out of here.
Alfred returned shortly with a tray bearing a teapot, three teacups, and a small tray of biscuits.
"I know what happened to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne and we need not speak about that. What I want to know is how you fit into this," he said, inclining his head toward Cat.
"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was there when it went down, and when he turned his gun on Brucey boy, here, I threw a jug of milk at him. He was about to shoot me, too, and Bruce attacked him and made the guy shoot himself in the arm. That's all."
"You two are very lucky to be alive, you know."
"I've been told that all my life, Gramps."
"What is your name? And where are your parents?"
"My dad's dead. My mom works for the government in secret. She's on some top-secret mission right now. I don't know when she'll be back."
"You look like you've been on the streets for a while." Selina didn't respond to this.
"I think we've all had a fairly… lucrative night. What do you say we all get some rest and we'll try again tomorrow. Sound fair?" Bruce nodded, still not having spoken a word. He led them both upstairs where he gave her a room across the hall from Bruce's.
"If you need anything, don't be afraid to call," he said to them both. She slipped inside of the room and inside of the blankets on the bed. They were perhaps the softest thing she had ever touched. She faintly remembered the feeling of her mother's hair flowing through her fingers. No, she was sure, her mother's hair was much softer.
She stared up at the ceiling, debating with herself what to do. She didn't have anyone in the city that would miss her if she disappeared. However, the longer she stayed, the harder it would probably be for her to leave. Right now, she could be getting caught up in something much bigger. She was a witness to a serious crime, and she couldn't afford to be getting tangled up in the courts. Last time they caught her, she was almost shipped away to a foster home, and she only escaped by the skin of her teeth that time. No, she couldn't stay here. She couldn't let herself get caught again.
She got up out of the bed and began tying the sheets and blankets together. After fastening a makeshift rope out of them, she anchored one end to one corner of her bed and threw the other end out of the window. She gathered up the rope in her hands and moved to the edge of the window.
"I just wanted to thank you."
"Ever heard of knocking? I could have been naked." He seemed uncomfortable with this, but he carried on anyway.
"I apologize for my rudeness. But I hope you will reconsider my offer to stay here."
"Why, so you can peek on me some more?"
"Because you look lonely." This stopped her. She turned to face him.
"I don't need anybody, kid."
"I never said you did. What I meant is that I need you. You saved my life back there. I owe you."
"And you saved mine, so you can consider the debt repaid in full." He shook his head.
"I can take care of you. You can live here and you'll never have to go hungry or be cold again. It's getting colder and colder now, how were you going to deal with that?" He was right. She had no idea how she was going to survive the winter. "I can help you. And you can help me. Just stay. Please." She thought about this. He was right, it was safer for her here. And he was offering to let her stay indefinitely, which she wasn't expecting.
"One condition."
"Anything. Anything at all, Selina."
She smiled.