The Year of the Cat

by Uncle Charlie

When the Batman is injured, where should he turn for help in protecting a cat-loving VIP to Gotham? It is just a matter of letting a cat(woman) out of the bag. My thanks to Laurose8 for her beta and charming comments.

One gold-green eye opened a slit at the noise from the window. A less-experienced cousin startled from his place on the counter to dive beneath a chair for protection. From various spots in the loft apartment, there were flurries of activities as the window opened and a sleek black shape slid in through the narrow crack. Landing solidly despite the three-inch spiked heel, the figure straightened and looked around the apartment, as if scenting the air for a hidden quarry.

Satisfied, a black-encased arm reached up and yanked off the mask, permitting a deluge of golden curls to fall into place. Mascara-laden eyelids lowered as the sweat-dampened hair was carefully fluffed, allowing air to cool it.

"Hi, honey, I'm home," she suddenly called out, laughing at the lack of response. Why would there be one? With the exception of a dozen or so cats, Selina Kyle lived alone and that was just the way she liked it.

She collapsed down onto a well-worn couch, making the movement appear as graceful as if she actually was the cat she dressed as. Yawning, she crossed her legs and reached forward to unlace a boot. Already a welcoming committee had gathered around her feet, purring, meowing, and demanding attention, and food, anything they could get from her. A striped, marmalade yearling batted at a dangling boot lace, grabbing the tip and flipping it into the air.

Selina laughed and wiggled the lace more, encouraging the antics. Who needed men when you had cats?

Just as the thought sped through her mind, a face flashed, the face of a man she had not thought of in months and one she might not have minded to spend the rest of her days with, if only...

"Oh, Bruce," she murmured, picking up a fluffy handful of cat. She remembered a night long passed, and felt the hardness of his body and his breath on her face, his hand, his lips. Without deliberate intention, her body started to react, yearning for his touch, his... "NO!"

The verbal explosion sent nearby cats scurrying for cover. The one she held burst into motion, ripping his way free from her strangling embrace with teeth and claw.

Selina sat upright, her steel claws puncturing the material of the couch. Her chest heaved with the desperate effort of purging the memory from her consciousness. It was over long ago, so why did he continue to torment her, crucify her dreams, spilling over to her waking moments? Tears burned parallel paths down her cheeks, streaking her makeup. It wasn't fair and he didn't even know it or even realize the hold he still had on her.

They'd worked together briefly nearly a year ago and Bruce had made his intentions quite clear to her - give up her way of life or she would lose him. It had been an unfair ultimatum and one he had no intention of following himself. If he could have his split identity, then so could she.

Fuming, she tried disentangled her claws, but they held firm. She ripped off her gloves, stood and stormed over to the radio, flicking it on with a vicious twist. It was preprogrammed for Gotham's classical station and the strains of Beethoven's "Romantic" abruptly filled the loft. Selina let the music soothe the raging of the mental scars that had resulted from Max Schrek's murder attempt.

Gradually her breathing quieted into a gentle rhythm and her heart ceased trying to explode from her chest. Selina stood beside her favorite painting, a piece by a relatively unknown artist. Resting her head against the wall, she stroked one of the two paint-and-canvas cats with gentle fingers. The texture of the paint, its ridges and glens, and the complexity, yet simplicity of the pigments worked its magic. Her shoulders relaxed and control was once again hers. As if signaled, cats started reappearing, venturing out of their hiding places, still wary, but too curious to remain concealed any longer.

Selina finished stripping off her costume and pulled on a silk robe that was draped over the back of an armchair. For all the world, she appeared a disheveled, just awakened sleeper, a persona that didn't hurt her cover.

She stepped to the rumpled catsuit and rummaged through it until she found the small leather pouch. Selina smiled and wet her lips with just the tip of her tongue, as she sat and emptied the contents onto her lap. The soft blue material of the robe made an excellent repose for the glittering gold and the flash of precious stones.

She slid a ring onto her finger and held it away to admire it. It would fetch a good price from her regular fence. A string of natural pearls was next, not tremendously valuable, but it was a trinket she couldn't pass up this time. She was always careful not to take too much from one place, to make her entrance and exit as unobtrusive as possible and to never, never hit the same place twice. To her credit, some of her robberies had yet to be discovered. She kept her path random, her crimes as injury free as possible. Not that Selina minded hurting people, sometimes she loved it, especially if the victim was a big strong man. It was just that successful cat burglary didn't require it; the lower her profile, the less likely it would attract the attention of Gotham's protector, the Batman.

Again Bruce Wayne's face came to her, this time out of place in the Batman costume, pleading with her to come home, be with him, as he tried to save the life of that slime ball Maxie. Men, they always stood together. The diamond cutting into the palm of her clenched fist shook her from her reverie. Her anger was easy to contain now, the major portion of her fury already spent.

The jewelry was scooped back into its pouch and dropped into the vegetable crisper, out of sight and out of mind. This neighborhood wasn't the best and it paid not to take chances.

A loud thump against her door made her jump as she was closing the refrigerator. Then she smiled and shook her head. The paper had been coming this way for a month now - when was it going to stop surprising her? All but the most timid cats had long since learned to disregard the noise, but it still startled Selina. Guilty conscience, Selina? she asked herself as she re-knotted her robe.

As she retrieved the paper, the head of her next door neighbor popped around his door jamb and grinned.

"Good morning, Miss Williams."

"Hi." She made the word as non-committal as possible. This guy had been hitting on her since she'd moved into her apartment. He had all the subtlety of a sledge hammer and the personality to match. Given the opportunity, she'd happily rip his lungs out and hand them to him.

"It's certainly a surprise that we keep running into each other like this."

"Yes, it is." Considering you've been sitting on the other side of your door just waiting for me to come out. Voyeuristic pig. She finished the thought while retreating back into the sanctuary provided by her apartment. It was only going to be a matter of time before she was going take this guy down, but for now he was providing her with a necessary cover. Selina was also fairly sure that with the proper persuasion, he would willingly collaborate any story that she might need to cook up... should the police somehow manage to connect Barbara Williams with the nocturnal pursuits of Selina Kyle.

Selina pulled the rubber band off the paper and deposited it in a covered garbage pail to keep it away from the cats. There was another temporary delay to make some coffee, but she finally settled down with the paper.

Suddenly, there was a cat in her lap, another curled up on her feet, a third twisting about her neck and shoulders. She smiled and opened the paper. Now she was home.

Almost immediately, her eye was caught by a familiar name and she shook her head. "Bruce, I just can't seem to get away from you today," she said aloud as she scanned the article. "Hmmm, looks like Mr. Wayne is going to have a shindig, guys." The cat at her neck chirped and rubbed a cheek against her ear. "I wonder if we'll be invited."

She scanned further and started to laugh, soft and throaty. "Says here it's a celebration of the Year of the Tiger." She grinned and wet her lips at the thought that was forming in her head. "I'd take that as a big yes, boys and girls."

*bbb*

Juggling the phone receiver between his hands, Bruce Wayne accepted a file folder offered by his secretary. The sheet he wanted was on top and he smiled at the woman. "Thank you, Margaret, you're a life saver." He held the receiver up to his ear, switching smoothly from English to Japanese. "My jet will meet you at the Tokyo airport, Kodoshi-san, on the ninth at ten a.m., Tokyo time. The entire city is as excited to see your exhibit as I am to finally meet you in person." He switched ears as he closed the file and moved it over onto a stack of similar folders that hid the corner of his desk. "I've discussed your concern for security with Commissioner Gordon. He's assured me that he will be able to provide the security necessary for the event." Bruce listened for a moment and habitually bowed his head, even though there was no way Kodoshi-san could see him. "Yes, I'm sure the Batman will be in the vicinity, although you may not see him. Yes, he's very good at what he does, Kodoshi-san. Good bye."

Wayne cradled the phone, already switching gears to deal with the next matter on his desk. In this case, it was an urgent note from the French Government, anxious to get in on what was promising to be more of an event for Gotham than Wayne had realized.

He'd been looking for a way to cement a relationship between himself and an eminently-powerful business man in Japan, Benwai Kodoshi. Negotiation between them stalled time and time again. No matter how hard he tried, Bruce Wayne could not connect the man until, by accident, he'd mentioned his cats. That had proven to be the ice breaker. Kodoshi loved cats, idolized them, in fact, and had immediately warmed to Wayne. That had been a year ago, a fruitful and financially successful twelve months for both men. Wanting to pay a fitting tribute to that partnership, Bruce had off-handed remarked that Kodoshi should come to Gotham to celebrate the Year of the Tiger, without immediately realizing that it was a Chinese holiday, not Japanese.

At first, he was afraid that Kodoshi would be offended at the suggestion of a Japanese citizen to acknowledge a Chinese holiday, but he was even more enthusiastic than Bruce could have hoped for. Not only that, but why not use the opportunity to celebrate cats in general, Kodoshi had suggested, making it a week-long festival for all of Gotham. Kodoshi, himself, had several valuable works of art that he would like Bruce to see and this would be an excellent opportunity to display them for the citizens of Gotham as well.

That had been the start of it. Next the Chinese offered to become involved. It was, after all, their holiday and they would not allow another nation to overshadow that. Next the Egyptians and the English asked to participate. Now the French were offering the fruits and labors of their artisans. To refuse one would be financial suicide and Bruce Wayne was not a man anxious to cut his business throat.

However, it was starting to get severely out of hand. All he had intended was a quiet weekend visit and small dinner party. Now the event was being hyped by the national and international news. Tourist agencies were reporting heavier than usual reservations for that week. February was a slow travel month and the agencies were excited about anything that would bring people into Gotham.

Of course, more people meant more crime. More crime meant the Batman's services would be in even greater demand - a difficult balancing act when considering that Gotham's dark protector and the host of this enormous block party were one and the same man. It was going to be a long week. Maybe afterwards, he'd leave Gotham to its own devices and take a vacation. He grinned at the thought and shook his head. "Maybe pigs will fly, too," he said aloud.

Bruce's intercom beeped and he thumbed the 'on' button. "Yes, Margaret?"

"Mr. Parker from the Smithsonian in on line five for you, Mr. Wayne, and Commissioner Gordon is here."

"Thank you. Please show Jim in." Bruce massaged an ear, sighed and picked up the phone. "Mr. Parker, this is Bruce Wayne. What can I do for the Smithsonian?" No, he had it wrong, it was what they could do for him and Bruce held up a hand in greeting as Jim Gordon walked into his office.

The police commissioner looked uncomfortable among the antiques and works of art that embellished Wayne's office, as if aware that many exceeded his yearly salary. Bruce indicated a wainscot chair and loosened his tie with his free hand.

"That's very generous of the Smithsonian, Mr. Parker, but I'm concerned about security. Commissioner Gordon's department is going to be severely taxed as it is." He held up a finger to keep Gordon from protesting. "I understand, sir, and if it's a risk that the museum is willing to take, of course, you would be welcome to display anything that you feel will be of interest to Gotham and its visitors." Bruce smiled and rubbed his cheek, frowning at the beard growth. Was it already that late in the day that he was going to have to have again? "No, please, Mr. Parker, it is Gotham that owes you thanks. I look forward to meeting with your representatives. Good bye." He cradled the phone before the man could continue and sighed. "Please don't offer to help me with my artistic needs for this event, Jim. I'm about ready to collapse under the burden of everybody's good will."

"Kodoshi is a powerful man, Bruce, and everyone wants to get their fingers in your pie," Gordon said, lowering his body into the chair carefully as if frightened that it might collapse beneath his weight. It creaked a protest, but held firm. Gordon let out his breath and Bruce grinned.

"You're certainly right about that. I just didn't realize just how powerful Kodoshi is. How is security shaping up?"

"I've cancelled all vacations and leaves and am pulling extra men in. I'm still not sure what we're doing with the Monarch. One of the best security companies on the East Coast is devising a system for the artwork on display." He looked at the phone. "What was that all about?"

Bruce took off his wire rim glasses and dropped them to the desk top. "The Smithsonian is bringing in its collection of cat works and I wanted them to provide their own security for them. We can use the extra help and it would be one less thing for you to worry about."

"It would be nice to have one collection that I won't have to lose sleep over. Barbara is ready to move me to the couch permanently," Gordon said, squirming uncomfortably in the oak chair. "I want to go into this without anticipating any help from the Batman. Frankly, we've become a little too dependent on him lately and I honestly feel my men are getting soft. I'm using this whole event to whip them into shape. "

"He'll be there, anyway. You won't be able to keep him away from something like this," Bruce murmured, massaging his closed eyes with his fingers.

"I know." Gordon's answer was equally as soft as if he was aware of what Bruce was actually saying. "I just worried that one of our more colorful criminals might put in an appearance. Somehow they always seem doubly attracted to something like this. I'm especially concerned about Catwoman. This will be a magnet for her."

"We...I...can't afford an incident, Jim. I've got a lot riding on this."

"Agreed," Gordon answered, studying the younger man. "Are you all right, Bruce?"

Another smile as the glasses were replaced. "Just a little tired, that's all. I'd be totally lost if it wasn't for you and Alfred."

"Maybe you should take it easy for the next few days. I ... ah ... read about that incident with the Simon twins. I never would have pegged you for a ménage au tois."

Bruce made a sound deep in his throat and leaned back in his chair, while shaking his head. "I still can't figure how that got leaked to the press. Even their parents couldn't tell them apart, how was I supposed to? Especially after a few drinks."

"According to what I read, it was more than a few."

"By the time it became obvious that there was two of them, it didn't seem ... important...anymore ...um...if you know what I mean," Bruce said, sitting forward. The stories he would have preferred to not get into print somehow always managed to and it made little difference to the reading public whether they were true or not.

"Indeed I do, son, just be careful." At times Gordon came off sounding more like his father than a friend of his father's. "Your reputation doesn't need any more fuel, particularly with Kodoshi coming to town."

"Thankfully the Japanese have a different view than Americans on premarital sex. I doubt he'd even be upset." The intercom beeped again and Bruce made a face at it even as Gordon was getting to his feet. "Yes, Margaret, who is it this time? The PM? The pope? God?"

When Margaret's voice answered, it was shaky, something odd considering her unflappability. "No, sir, he said he was the president."

"The president? Of what?" Bruce held up his hand to stop the commissioner.

"The United States."

"Wonderful," Bruce muttered. "He's probably going offer me Air Force One to pick up Kodoshi." He released the button for a moment. "Sorry, Jim, looks like duty calls here."

"I understand completely," Gordon said, obviously delighted to be able to make good his escape.

"Thank you for all you've done." Bruce offered his usual bone-crushing handshake and returned to the intercom. "Okay, Margaret, let's hear what the president has to say. I wonder if he knows I voted the other ticket..."

*bbbb*

Selina Kyle stretched out on the floor in front of the small portable TV, sweating, in spite of the storm outside. A cat paused to sniff at her, then decided it wasn't worth jeopardizing a trip to the food bowl and continued on his way. Selina rolled over and looked up at the ceiling, using the time to catch her breath.

"On a lighter note, the residents of Gotham are preparing to take part in the Chinese New Year. This is the Year of the Tiger, forty-six, eighty-three, and Gotham has rolled out the red carpet to several visiting dignitaries. Here is Carol Norton with a Live at Five report." Selina sat up and stared at the TV, her attention totally focused upon it. The picture cut from the newscaster's talking head to a full shot of a woman standing before the Flugelheim museum.

"That's right, Stan, the most prominent of those visiting dignitaries is Benwai Kodoshi, the head of the multi-billion dollar Kodoshi Electronics. He will be the guest of honor at an event that promises to oversahdow all other events ever hosted by Gotham. It will coordinate some of the most exclusive and priceless pieces of cat art in the world. The event is the brainchild of billionaire Bruce Wayne, who was not available for comment. However, a representative said that the event would be opened to the public for viewing, following the opening charity performance of the original cast of "Cats" at the Monarch Theater. The tickets, going for $1,000 apiece, were sold out within minutes, Stan. It should be quite an affair."

"What about security measures?"

"I spoke with Commissioner Gordon and he assures me that security will be extremely tight."

"And what about the Batman, Carol? Does he have an invitation to this party?"

"There is no doubt that Gotham's most famous inhabitant will be hanging around for the festivities, but it's your bet and mine that no one will even know he's there unless he wants us to, Stan. Back to you at the studio ..."

Selina grimaced at the pun as she leaned forward to snap off the set. She sat back and tapped her fingers against the carpet. Maybe it was time to renew old acquaintances.

*bbbb*

Bruce Wayne lolled against the crushed velvet of the sofa, savoring both the warmth of the fire on his face and that of the port trickling down his throat. In a few minutes, he would abandon both and head for the cave, shedding the role of Gotham's golden boy and take up the mantle of its dark protector.

The phone rang and Bruce listened to it, waiting for Alfred to answer it. After the fourth ring, Bruce frowned, resisting the urge to call out to his butler and prompt him. It wasn't like Alfred to fall down on his duties.

On the seventh ring, Bruce suddenly realized the problem. Alfred was out, seeing to some detail for the private gathering scheduled after the performance.

"Shit!" Bruce was off the couch in a split second to snatch up the receiver. It would be some reporter concocting a reason to call him for a comment, probably Knox. "Hello?"

At the silence that answered him, he wondered if the other party had already given up and repeated, "Hello?"

Just as he was ready to hang up, he heard it, a single word that sent both a slamming wallop to his stomach and a tingle to his groin. "Meow... "

"Selina?" he asked softly, then louder. "Selina?" The question became a demand, "Selina!" There was a soft chuckle and the connection was broken. The gauntlet had been thrown down, his to either leave or pick up. Just what he needed. He took out his frustrations on the phone, slamming the receiver down onto its cradle.

"Prrt?" The question was softly posed as its issuer leapt gently up onto the table. The small black cat rubbed her head against a braced forearm and tried again. "Merant?"

"I don't know, Aggie," Bruce said, running a hand down the cat's back and up her tail. "I don't know why she's doing this."

A second cat joined them, rubbing around Bruce's ankles, offering consolation. She looked up at the Lord of the Manor expectantly as if to say, "Well, I've done my bit," and Bruce smiled despite the frustration. "Yes, Spooky, I know you're there." He reached down and scratched a gray cheek. "I wish you two would talk to her. Maybe she'd listen to you. I certainly have no control over her."

*bbbb*

Selina Kyle rolled back from the phone, surrendering to the peals of laughter. This was going to be too good. She could just see Wayne staring down at the phone, cursing it, her, and anything else that got in the way. He now knew that Catwoman was aware of his little game and, invited or not, was intended to take part in it. That would teach them to try excluding her from the proceedings.

The cats that reposed in the immediate vicinity watched their mistress for a moment as if she were mad, then dismissed her as they went about their catly duties of sleeping, cleaning, or just relaxing.

"It's their own fault, Minette," Selina said as she ruffled the fur of a snoozing Persian. One eye cracked opened, then reclosed as soft purring started. It was true that Bruce didn't know where she was, but he could find her if he'd wanted to. After all, wasn't he the world's greatest detective? "I think it's time to pay a visit to the Monarch Theater."

*bbbb*

Anchoring the rope firmly around a fire escape ladder, Batman stepped off the roof. It was a seventeen story drop to the pavement, but such thoughts didn't occur to him, at least not while he was engaged in the potentially deadly act. Those revelations were for the early morning hours as he struggled with sleep, too tired to successfully battle the fatigue that he bore on his shoulders, too frightened of his dreams to sleep.

Gordon was sitting at his desk, drinking coffee and staring off into space. Quietly, Batman settled on the ledge and slid the partially-ajar window up until it could accommodate his frame. He managed to slip through the window and straighten before Gordon heard him. I'll have to work on my entrances, Batman decided as the police commissioner spun about, slopping coffee over his desk top.

"Must you always come through the window? Just once couldn't you use the door?!" That outburst wasn't like Gordon and Batman could see the purple shadows of exhaustion around the older man's eyes. This event was obviously taking its toll on more than just Wayne. Fuming, Gordon mopped up the coffee with a handkerchief and tossed it into the trash. After a moment, most of the paperwork on his desk followed. "If I thought I had any influence over you, I'd suggest that you pay Bruce Wayne a little visit and kick his ass for this."

"Problems?"

"Security..." Gordon broke off to shake his head tiredly. "The Monarch Theater is so old that there is no way we can effectively wire it for security."

"Forget it."

"And risk a kidnapping?"

"Not her style."

"Whose?"

"Catwoman."

"Good god, you don't mean ... you've talked with her?"

"Yes." Gordon's face clouded over and Batman was afraid that he was going to have to physically restrain the man.

"Goddamnit!" Gordon slapped his desk. "That's just what we need!" He rose and paced the length of the office, passing close enough to the Dark Knight to make the cape billow gently in his wake.

I should feel better now, Batman thought. He'd not gotten the monkey entirely off his back, but the load was being shared by the Gotham police force. Instead, he felt worse, even guilty, for bringing Gordon in on this. Batman's mind mulled over the events of the past few days.

"Wouldn't you agree, Batman?" He abruptly realized that Gordon had been talking to him and the words had fallen upon deaf ears. Without answering, Batman stared at him, the blue eyes carefully shielded to avoid display any sign of confusion. Gordon scowled and resumed talking, "Okay, so it's stupid, but I'm desperate. If fitting all the delegates with individual alarms isn't the answer, then what is?"

Batman answered by backing away from him, retracing his footsteps to the open window. Within moments, he was outside it, invisible to the human eye, despite the fact that he was just inches from Gordon as he scanned the night for the Batman's departing form.

Once his old friend had abandoned the search, a black glove reached out, snatching the dangling line. He headed back up to the roof, crossed it and went down the back of the building.

His lack of response to Gordon's question hadn't been born out of mystery as much as necessity. The truth was that the Batman wasn't sure exactly how to deal with Catwoman. Lovers, adversaries, he wasn't sure if both or either applied to their relationship and that hampered his judgement in a way that nothing else could.

He parked the Batmobile in a back alley and brought up the shields, encasing the car in protective armor. In the shadows, it was practically impossible to see until you were on top of it.

Batman started walking towards the theater, his thoughts elsewhere, then he was stopped by a pain more great than anything his enemies or his training could have inflicted, the pain of a young boy whose world was suddenly and callously ripped from him in a .45-calibre second.

Batman stood there, the very spot that had given him life by giving him death. He felt and anguish and an anger as if it had only just occurred. Please, God, when is it going to stop hurting? He thought, looking up at the night sky as if it would supply a previously unspoken answer. It didn't, although a few snowflakes fluttered down to him, landing gently on his face. Through sheer will, he forced his boots to move, first inches, then feet and yards until he was away from that spot and in front of the theater, staring up at the weather-beaten marque.

"Batman!" The worker's voice startled him, although outwardly he gave no indication of it. The man's yellow hardhat bobbed towards him from the dimness of the theater, becoming more visible as he neared the street lights. "Can I...do you need...ah ...help?"

"Have you seen her?"

"Who?"

"Catwoman."

The worker looked back at the theater, shaking his head. He drew a breath between his teeth and let it out slowly. "Unless she's disguised as an old sandbag or spotlight, I can't say that I have, Batman...Batman?" He was standing alone on the sidewalk, talking to himself. A street person shuffled by, staring, apparently trying to decide if the worker was dangerous or not.

*bbbb*

Breaking into the Monarch Theater had proven to be as easy as it was to break into a penthouse, maybe even more so. The building was old, in decline and desperate for the attention that it was now receiving. Bums, derelicts and drug users had holed up in the basement for years before a downtown reclamation committee had declared the Monarch a living relic and began a campaign to restore it. They managed to scratch up enough money to clean it up enough for regular people and started playing on the sympathies of touring companies. Any money that was earned was poured back into the building and Selina herself had paid some hefty ticket prices to catch various musicals after they'd left Broadway. The acoustics and the aesthetics of the theater were marvelous and she found herself agreeing with the authorities. This place was too good to tear down or to let slide any further into decay, but the ticket prices were playing havoc with her pitiful salary.

So, she began hanging around backstage, offering a hand when one was necessary, charming the stagehands with her looks while she learned the layout of the house, the backstage area and the dressing rooms. It gave her a chance to at least hear the shows, if not see them. It wasn't until Selina Kyle became Catwoman that she was able to afford re-establish her connection with theater and start attending as an audience member again. Still, she missed the camaraderie of backstage.

The familiarity with the Monarch was paying off now as she moved easily through the dimly lit hallways, listening to the hammering and pounding of the workers, the scurrying of the rats. The place needs a good airing out more than anything else, she decided as her nostril were assaulted by the stale, moldy air.

Her hands found the ladder she'd been searching for, and she started to climb. Experience told her that the trap door to the catwalks would be open. The illumination from the work lights nearly blinded her as she pushed up the door and hefted herself through the opening. She gently dropped the trapdoor back into place and walked carefully across the plywood flooring, tiptoeing to avoid any noise.

Beneath her, she could hear the workmen laboring, swearing, attempting to bring the building to rights as much as was possible before the acting troupe and the audience arrived.

"We really need to replace the carpeting in here." The comment floated up to her.

"Mr. Wayne's generosity can only be stretched so far. He's already sunk a wad into this place. Shampoo it and patch it the best you can. Just make sure any bad spots are taped down so no one trips."

Selina sensed him before she saw him if indeed she would have seen him at all. Cloaked in the shadows, he was totally invisible, but she still knew he was with her. Slowly, as if oblivious to his presence, she moved out onto the catwalk, toying with the grip of her whip, shaking it loose in case she needed it for one reason or another.

She knelt and looked through the metal safety wire to the stage below. Here she'd be able to have a bird's eye view of the performance without having to cough up what the scalpers were asking for tickets.

The air whispered faintly, stirred by the passing of a black cape and Selina ran her tongue across the bottom of her top teeth. Without looking, she murmured, "They really do need new carpeting in here, you know." At the lack of an answer, she smiled. "You should really think about getting yourself fixed. The pheromones practically drip off you." She turned and he was there at the end of the catwalk, as black and dark as the night, the glaring blue eyes and pale flesh of his lower face the only hint of color on him.

*bbbb*

Although he'd been silent, motionless in the cast-off shadows, he realized she'd sensed him almost immediately. They were too much alike, too much in tune with one another to make a genuine surprise entrance possible for either of them. Batman had steeled himself against her presence, knowing that she and that whip were a match for him. Her claws has tasted his blood before and he wasn't ready to welcome a repeat performance.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked softly, using his normal speaking voice. Selina was privy to his secret, there was nothing to be gained from disguising his voice from her.

"What would you have me do, my love?" Selina asked, approaching him until they stood abreast, two black silhouettes against the backlight. "It's like you, I can't resist it." She reached out, touching his face gently.

Batman flinched slightly as the finger tips caressed his face, eyes straining to see the sharp steel claws as they ticked against his face plate. Carefully, slowly, he reached up and took the hand. "No trouble, Selina, I'm begging you."

She chuckled softly, using her other hand to reach behind him, pulling him to her with an iron grip. "I like men who beg. If I were to agree with your ridiculous terms, what would you give me in return?"

"Anything you wanted," he said, his voice husky now. This close to him, she had no real chance of a surprise attack, he could feel her body's faintest movement. He made no attempt to restrain her, to hold her against her will would only cause her to resist. "Anything? Your... blood?" Selina asked, innocently.

"If necessary," he heard himself answer before realizing it and Selina smiled, a wide cat-eating-the-canary grin.

"No promises for the moment," she murmured, then kissed him, deep and demanding. Batman repaid her in kind with the same passionate vehemence. This might well be the last time. Indeed, each time might well be the last.

Selina backed away, sucking the taste of him from her lips. "So much energy. I would have thought those twins..."

"Damnit, Selina..."

"No, damn you, Bruce, for thinking you had any control over me." She brought a knee up sharply between his legs. Fashioned after the armor of old, the brayette offered some protection, but it wasn't complete. The pain was just enough to remind him of who he was dealing with. His arms came up instinctively to protect his face, Selina's favorite target.

She rewarded him with a slamming kick to his stomach. The plackart withstood the force, permitting him to catch the foot and toss her away.

The whip was out now, growling and snapping like an angry dog. It lashed out, wrapping around his gauntlet. Batman tugged and Catwoman stumbled towards him, unwilling to release the whip. He hit her just hard enough to knock the wind from her, but not enough to hurt her.

"If you can't cooperate, Selina, then I'm taking you in right now," he said, his voice adopting his Batman persona. They had attracted an audience, both below and on the catwalks as workers investigated the source of the noise.

"Not likely," she snarled and head butted him, knocking him back, over the railing and onto the wire safety net. A lesser weight and it might have held. A luckier person and it might have held. The Batman was neither and the wire surrendered after only a momentary struggle.

He was used to making his own luck and had the Batgun out, aimed and fired before he'd completely torn through the wire. It caught and started to retract, but it started to slow him only seconds before the stairs of the theater came up to greet him.

Dazed and barely conscious, he laid there waiting for air to find its way back into his lungs. Above his head, he could hear a scuffle and knew that it would only be minutes before Selina took care of the workers and escaped.

He broadcasted urgent messages to his arms and legs to move, but they resisted his best efforts. Paralyzed? Is my back broken? He thought, frantically struggling. Sorry, the body you're reached is no longer in service at this time, his body answered him and his last conscious vision was Selina leaning over the rail of the catwalk, smiling down at him.

Catwoman straightened and looked back over the havoc she had wreaked. The few workers that remained were sprawled about, looking as out of it as her costumed counterpart. It would only be minutes before there were more assailants to take their places and Selina didn't believe in looking a gift cat in the mouth. She headed for the emergency exit and the roof.

The cold winter air blasted a chilly greeting to her as she exited out onto the roof and she looked around to decide on a course of action. It was really too early to call it a night, yet too late to pay any unsocial calls on her usual clientele.

She was still contemplating a course of action when an ambulance came blaring up to the theater, its lights dancing against the darkened buildings in the block. Curious, she watched as the attendants unloaded the stretcher and hurried into the theater.

Hmmm, Selina wondered, smiling. Who did I hurt badly enough to need an ambulance? She straightened abruptly as a familiar black-encased figure appeared on the stretcher. He was strapped to a backboard and Selina bit her bottom lip. She had just assumed that his costume would protect him for any serious damage. After all, she'd fallen 37 stories and came out of it with only a headache and a goose egg. This wasn't possible. A bevy of police cars pulled up just as they were preparing to load the stretcher and Gordon jumped out, running to the attendants.

She couldn't make out their words, but saw one slowly shake his head. He's dead? She thought, guilt starting to eat at her. That just wasn't possible...was it? Batman couldn't die...could he?

The ambulance sped away with the police cars in its wake and Selina followed without conscious thought. She had to know.

*bbbb*

He came to amid the squealing of tires and a blaring siren, quite a change from the silence of the Monarch. Still groggy, the Batman tried to sit up, confused at first by the constriction he felt. As he became more aware, he realized he'd been strapped to a back board. Obviously a safety precaution since he had taken a 60 foot fall.

The attendant was drawn by his movements. "Just lie still, Batman, we'll be at the hospital in a couple more minutes."

"No."

The attendant tried again. "You've had a bad fall. We've got to get you to the hospital. You may have sustained a back injury. We need to check you out."

In your dreams, "No." The struggling was in earnest now, however he was still too dazed to break the straps.

"I'm sorry. It's my job to make sure you're okay."

"No hospital. The clinic in Crime Alley." He watched the attendant try not to look sympathetic or amused. Unfortunately, Leslie's clinic was for the underprivileged, the people who had no place else to turn for medical help.

"Don't worry. This is on Gotham City," the attendant said, patting his shoulder. Or trying to. It was hard to make it out through the armor.

It took the Batman several more minutes of arguing before convincing the ambulance driver and attendant to detour from the hospital to Leslie's, but in the end, they finally saw things his way, particularly after he broke the restraining straps. Thankfully, it didn't take as much effort to have them radio the cops to go ahead and meet them at the hospital instead of following them there. They were all too happy to clear the way.

Batman staggered out of the ambulance and managed to disappear before either EMT were able to stop him. There were several doctors at the clinic and it was important for both his and Leslie's sake that no one knew the connection between them.

*bbbb*

She was busy with a patient, so the Batman waited quietly in the shadows afforded by the under-powered over-worked fluorescent lights. Once the older woman was free, he stepped into view, smiling as she gasped and put a hand to her throat.

"Good God."

"Sorry," he said, softening the harsh edge of his voice. He limped over to a chair and eased himself into it.

"I'd ask if this was a social call, but looking at your face, I'd say it was business."

"Definitely business." He looked over at the door and nodded. "Are we alone?"

Leslie took the hint and slid the dead bolt into place. The room was windowless, not even a vent to offer an egress out of the small whitewashed room. As she manipulated the lock, the Batman began the process of removing his armor plating.

"What happened?" Leslies asked as he slowly worked off his chest plate. When it became apparent that he was having difficulties with it, she continued. "Would you like a hand?"

"Please. To answer your earlier question, I took a header from the Monarch's catwalks."

She struggled with the armor and it finally gave up the fight and slid off. "Looks more like you landed flat on your back." Leslie said, shaking her head. "Your back is a mass of bruises."

"Already?"

"We'd better take some x-rays."

"Wonderful."

*bbbb*

Catwoman watched as the ambulance veered from its course to the Gotham City Hospital and headed back into the city.

"What are those idiots doing?" she said, fuming. It wasn't hard to follow the siren or the lights as they bounced off the tired buildings of older Gotham. She caught up with it parked outside a free clinic on Crime Alley.

"Bruce, what are you up to?" She asked the wind as it whipped past her. It sent a chill down her back and she shivered involuntarily. Obviously, it was a night that it paid to keep moving, she climbed down from the rooftop and approached the ambulance. The attendant was standing by the opened rear doors and Selina came up behind him, slipping the handle of her whip across his windpipe and pulling backwards.

"Where is he?" she demanded as the man struggled to free himself.

"I don't know," the man coughed out, hands pushing against the pressure on his throat."

"Another step and you'll be taking him to the hospital," Catwoman warned as the driver came charging around the vehicle. "Why did you take him here?"

"Give us a break, Catwoman, this is where he wanted to come," said the driver as he froze in his tracks.

"Make me believe you," she demanded into the attendant's ear.

"Look in the back of the ambulance," the driver interrupted and Selina jerked the attendant around to do just that. It looked like a small hurricane or one determined crimefighter had hit the place. Equipment, instruments and packages were scattered about and in the middle of the floor laid a backboard, the straps torn from it. Selina smiled and loosened her hold on the man.

"He's all right," she said, dropping the whip and putting some distance between herself and the EMTs, just in case they harbored some bizarre thought of trying to tackle her.

"Jez, what a night..." muttered the attendant as he rubbed his throat. "I've just about had it with Gotham's costumed freaks. I wondering Metropolis is hiring."

Selina took that as a compliment and headed down a dark alley.

*bbbb*

"You're lucky, there's nothing broken, although you did crack a couple of your ribs." Leslie tossed the x-rays down on the table and regarded the man. "But considering the masses of scar tissue on the bones, I'd say you already knew that." Bruce nodded, trying to keep his breathing shallow.

"My recommendation is that you stay in bed for a couple of days and take it easy. Now you can tell me how unrealistic that is." She reached for a rolled elastic bandage.

"Kodoshi is due in three, there's too much to do," Bruce said, slowly raising his arms.

"Fine and we'll see what Alfred had to say about it." She reached around him and began to wrap the bandage, pulling it tight. Bruce grunted, finally protesting, "I can't breathe, Leslie."

"Good! Maybe that will make you think twice before doing something stupid like this again." She taped the end and then turned away from him. "How many more times do Alfred and I have to patch you up before you stop this death wish, Bruce? When we're standing over your grave?" He reached out to touch her shoulder and she pulled away from him. "Just go," she demanded, her hand over her mouth.

Silently, he re-donned the cuisse and cowl of his costume and started from the room. "I do what nobody else can or will do, Leslie, and with or without your blessing, I will continue to do so until I no longer can. It makes no difference to me if that's due to old age or premature death. I'm sorry." And he was gone, back into the welcoming arms of the night.

*bbbb*

Catwoman was huddled in the shelter of a crumbling gargoyle, so cold that she nearly missed the entire purpose for her being here. He walked by, keeping to the shadows, barely detectable even when you knew what to look for.

A surge of warmth ran through her and Selina straightened to get a better view of him.

Batman? Walking? Maybe not as all right as I thought, she reflected as she studied the slowly retreating figure. Still, it was enough to know that he was alive and functioning, albeit barely. He wasn't going to be any good for the next few days, no matter how much he tried.

Selina shook her head and looked back at the clinic. An older woman was standing there, looking out into the night after the wake of the Batman. Hmmmm, he came all this way just to see her. Apparently this secret is spread around more than I realized. I wonder who she is, Selina wondered as she watched the woman shake her head and disappear back into the clinic. It wouldn't take much to find out and she really did need to get in for the night before catching her death of cold.

*bbbb*

Bruce Wayne buried himself in the folds of the hot water and closed his eyes. If he didn't move around a lot, the water didn't burn as much. He knew that from experience and the sore stiffness of his body made it even easier to comply. Between the heat, lack of sleep, and the muscle relaxants, he could barely keep his eyes open, a condition he knew would vanish the moment he laid down in bed.

The door to the bath room opened and a silver-haired gentleman in a tuxedo entered. "Master Bruce, you have a visitor." Alfred Pennyworth was the closest thing Bruce had to a father after his own parents were murdered. The butler stood aside and allowed Jim Gordon to enter.

"Jim, come and join me," Bruce invited, without moving a muscle.

"I don't think so," Gordon said, eyeing the steam as it rolled off the water. "It looks a little warm if your face is any indication."

"Hell should be this hot," Bruce said, smiling. "It's good for you. The Japanese have been doing it for hundreds of years." Slowly he reached up and pulled the small tenugui from his head. "And you know it's inevitable if you plan to hang around Kodoshi. At least with me you don't have to worry about saving face." At Gordon's doubtful look, Bruce chuckled and reached for a faucet. "Tell you what, I'll even cool it down for you."

"There's no way I'm going to avoid this, is there?"

"Unless you want to appear ungracious and offend your host, I'm afraid not. Alfred, why don't you get Jim a yukata and then we can talk."

"A yukata?" Gordon mopped his brow. "Is that a drink? I could sure use something like that."

"I'm afraid not, sir," Alfred said, opening a door for the commissioner. "If you'll follow me, please."

"Isn't as bad as you thought, is it? You can admit it to me, Jim, I won't spread it around." If anything, Gordon looked less than delighted with his present situation.

"I thought you said you were going to cool it down."

"I did, from a hundred and thirty five to about ninety five degrees, it couldn't call itself a respectable hot bath if it gets any cooler than that."

"A man could die of heat stroke in here," Gordon said, moving around uncomfortably.

"It's better if you stay still, Jim. You'll get accustomed to it in a few minutes. Now that we're eye level, what can I do for you?"

Gordon looked around to ascertain that they were indeed alone and then leaned forward. "We have trouble."

A sigh. "Now what?"

"Last night at the Monarch Theater. Catwoman showed up and got into it with Batman."

"I'm sure they both had a very good time," Bruce said drily.

"Not exactly. Batman fell from the catwalks and has disappeared. According to the EMTs that treated him, he was badly hurt. I don't think we can count on his help for this."

Bruce smiled slightly. "I thought you said you didn't want his help."

"You know what I mean, Bruce." The commissioner had closed his eyes, finally starting to relax. "This isn't too bad once you get used to it."

Alfred had reappeared, carrying a tray laden with a tea service and a platter of small cakes. He set the tray down and offered the plate first to Bruce, then to Gordon who eyed the contents suspiciously.

"Alfred has been trying his hand at these, Jim," Bruce said before biting into the small confection. "I think you've perfected them, Alfred."

"Thank you, sir, it was a bit of a challenge."

"What is it?" Gordon asked, picking the cake closest to him.

"One of the rules of Japanese cuisine is to never ask what it is before you eat it, only afterwards. Trust me."

"Ha!" Gordon said, then popped the cake into his mouth and chewed. "They're good."

"You sound surprised." Bruce took the proffered tea cup and a second cake. "It's only sweetened bean paste. So, what are you planning to do about this new development?"

After a moment, Gordon shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. I've contacted Center City's commissioner to see if they can provide any extra support. I'm not as much worried about the Batman's absence as I am the presence of Catwoman. It can only mean trouble."

"You're certainly right about that."

*bbbb*

Selina Kyle lounged upon her narrow bed, too sleepy to get up, too awake to nod off. Instead she rolled over and lifted a small cat up on her stomach. "Oh, Skipper, what have I done?"

Not willing to comfort, the cat squirmed free and raced away. "It's all his own fault, you know," Selina said, sitting up. "All I wanted was a good place to watch the show. I wasn't going to cause trouble. It just isn't fair." She punched a pillow savagely. "It just isn't fair! What am I supposed to do now? Take up his slack? Not very likely!"

Still, her conscience nagged at her. She'd goaded him into an attack, she's kicked him over the rail...or pushed him, she couldn't remember anymore. "Damnit, Bruce!"

She stood and walked to the telephone, dialing the number from memory. After two rings, a crisp British voice answered, "Wayne residence."

"Alfred, hi, it's me, Selina."

"Ah, Miss Kyle, how are you, ma'am?"

"That's not the question, Alfred. How is he?"

There was a pause as Alfred obviously considered his response. Then, "Despite his protests otherwise, I believe, very poorly. It is nearly eleven and he had made no attempts to leave the house."

"I'm sorry, Alfred, I didn't mean to..."

"He is as much the blame as you, Miss Kyle."

"What can I do to help?"

"Thank you very much for the offer, ma'am, but..."

"There has to be something... anything."

"Well, it would relieve his mind to know that your dark persona is not up to deviousness."

Selina smiled at the word. "You have quite a way with words, Alfred. You can assure him that I'm not. Nor was I, if he'd have just stopped and listened to me… I was trying to tell him that."

"A blemish on an otherwise outstanding record, ma'am."

Selina laughed now, shaking back her hair. "I like you, Alfred, I really do."

"Thank you, ma'am, and I, you."

"I'll be in touch."

*bbbb*

"Who were you talking to, Alfred?" The butler turned and glanced over at the slowly approaching figure.

"No one of consequence, sir. Are you quite through with your bathing."

"Any more and I'd turn into a prune... or suffer hypothermia. I never thought Jim would leave and I couldn't very well get out of the bath with him there." Bruce said, knotting his yukata firmly in place. "Did you record the news?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's see what's goin' on." He started walking towards the direction of the study. "If you get there before me, just start."

"Sir, if I do that, we will be well into the sports highlights before you put in an appearance."

"It's not that bad," Bruce said, smiling, despite the discomfort. "It's worse." He drew a careful breath and increased his step. Somehow it wasn't as bad as going slow and he decided to remember that.

Settled into his favorite armchair, he stared at the big screen TV, letting his mind pick and choose its topics. For the most part, all the local stations reported the same news, but every once in a while, there was a pearl cast before the Bat. So, he recorded and watched them all, just as he subscribed to a dozen local and nearby papers. It paid to be informed.

"Good evening from WGTM, Channel Two. I'm Brad Read." The cameras switched as one anchor passed off to the other.

"And I'm Jenny Chan." The woman smiled at the blinking light. "Our top story this evening is the possible fall of its dark protector."

"Yes, Jenny, there's news coming over the wires that Batman is indeed in dire straits and just two days before the arrival of Japan's Benwai Kodoshi of Kodoshi Electronics."

"Unconfirmed reports have been pouring into the station and we have this exclusive video taken by one of the workman renovating the Monarch Theater."

Bruce sat forward and bit the corner of his bottom lip. Pain coursed through him as he watched himself fall through the netting and land spread eagle upon the red-carpeted stairs.

"My word, Master Bruce, it was fortunate that you weren't killed," Alfred said as he set the dinner tray down within his employer's grasp.

"Prove to me I wasn't," Bruce responded, tight lipped as the Batman struggled to rise, then fall back unable to move. A blip in the film and the next shot was of the ambulance drivers struggling to load the unconscious crime fighter onto a back board and carry him to the waiting ambulance.

"However, the Batman never made it to the hospital. Instead he instructed the EMTs to take him to the Thomas Wayne Clinic in Crime Alley. After going inside to alert the staff, they came back to an empty ambulance. The clinic released a statement saying that to the best of their knowledge the Batman is not among their current patients."

"This is just what I needed," Bruce said, hitting the fast forward button through the commercials. "Now every punk and crime boss in Gotham will be out in full force." He dropped the remote onto his lap and shook his head. "I think I need a vacation, Alfred. What's the Virgin Islands like this time of year?"

"I wouldn't know, sir, however I would be happy to inquire concerning it."

"Do it. After Kodoshi, I need it." Carefully he stood and rubbed his back. "I'm going below."

The butler looked at the untouched dinner tray and shook his head. "I don't know why I go to the trouble..." he let the sentence trail off when it was obvious that the one it was intended for didn't or wouldn't hear him. Silently he picked up the tray and followed Wayne.

*bbbb*

Catwoman? Crime fighting? What a concept! Catwoman thought as she looked down at the alley. She had no trouble with breaking and entering, and muggers weren't much of a threat, providing it wasn't cutting into her end of the business. However, when a couple muscle-bound dopes decided to force their attentions on one of her fellow females, it was definitely her concern.

"Scream all you want, sweetheart, there ain't gonna be no Batman to come and save you tonight. He's down and out."

"Or maybe he's just giving the rest of us a chance," Selina said as she landed gently on the concrete and began walking towards them. Her catsuit left absolutely nothing to the imagination and the two men gave her their full attention.

"Hello, little lady, how 'bout a kiss."

"With pleasure." Her whip was out and snarling now. "As long as you don't mind the taste of leather. The tips of the lash caught him in the face and he screamed as blood came. Holding his hands to his face, he stumbled away, howling as if mortally wounded. In two days, he'd have come up with some glamorous cover story to explain the scars, but he'd always know exactly how and who had given it to him no matter what kind of concocted bit of BS he created.

"And what about you, stud?" She suddenly broke into a series of tumbles, came up directly in front of the second man and slashed out with her claws, catching him across the face. She followed it with a kick to his stomach and a slam of her elbow to his neck. Semi-conscious, the punk could do little more than gurgle a protest as Selina straddle his back and yanked his head backwards by his hair.

"Tell them," Selina ordered, hissing out the words into his ear. "If they thought they had trouble with the Bat, they haven't seen anything. Now it's the Year of the Cat."

Boy, Selina, did that sound corny but effective, she thought as she let the head flop forward. No wonder Bruce always keeps his mouth shut.

Throughout this, the woman watched, dumbfounded, coming back to life only as the Catwoman turned to face her. She pressed against an unyielding concrete retainer wall. "Please don't hurt me," she whimpered.

"Don't worry, you're safe, this time. Unlike me, you don't have nine lives. I'd think about that the next time you decide to parade yourself around at night."

Before the woman could decide whether or not to thank the Catwoman, Selina was gone, scaling the side of a building as if it was a giant cement tree.

It felt good in a peculiar way. It had the same edge of danger and adventure that burglary possessed, but this felt safer, more controllable, with her in charge. A girl could get used to this, but it didn't pay the bills. She had to go tend to that now.

*bbbb*

"How are you feeling this morning, sir?"

Bruce Wayne slowly became aware of his surroundings. At some point last night, he must have come back up from the cave, but he certainly didn't remember it. He was too big for Alfred to have carried up the stairs and put to bed ...wasn't he?

"Are you in pain, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, concerned by the lack of an answer.

"What? No, thank you, Alfred." Bruce sat up carefully and stretched his back. The muscles were still stiff and his ribs hurt, but nothing like they did before. "I'm feeling a lot better."

"Perhaps this would further aid your recovery," Alfred said, settling a breakfast tray into place over Bruce's lap. The butler unfolded the top paper. 'YEAR OF THE CAT' the Gotham Globe's headline blazed in 64-point print.

"What? That doesn't start for couple of days," Bruce muttered as he picked up the paper, then he saw the photograph. The man, unidentified, carried four parallel scratches across his face. Bruce recognized that particular calling card even if the press didn't. He had a matching set on his chest. Interest piqued, he groped for his glasses on his bedside table while still staring at the photo. They finally found their way into his hand and he slipped the wire rim glasses on to scan the article. It didn't surprise him to see that Knox carried the by-line. The reporter had a knack of being in the right spot at the right time, and to his credit, he kept the article favorably balanced, being careful to not draw parallels between this new crimefighter and the Batman.

"What's she up to, Alfred?" The silvered head shook slightly as its owner tended to wardrobe needs. "Why do I have a feeling you know more than you're saying, old friend."

"I, Master Bruce? Perish the suspicion that I should sequester a private thought from you. What is the younger generation coming to?"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Bruce said, setting the paper aside and turning his attention to the rest of the breakfast tray. Despite his lack of nocturnal activity, his appetite was good this morning...or maybe it was because he didn't eat dinner last night.

He eat quickly and quietly. Mopping up the remnants of the yolk with a piece of toast, he glanced over at his butler as Alfred was depositing the day's wardrobe on a dressing rack.

"Master Bruce, such a reproachable habit."

"Picked it up in England," Bruce answered, popping the toast into his mouth. "Oxford, in fact."

"Americans always blame their more despicable habits on the English. How much longer shall my people carry the burden of America's inappropriate behavior?"

Bruce pulled off his glasses and studied the man carefully. "You're in a peculiar mood this morning, Alfred. Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir." Alfred continued laying out the clothes he'd selected.

"How are the arrangements going?"

"Despite being hinder throughout by a lack of serious organization, it does appear that all will be ready for Mr. Kodoshi's arrival. I have taken the liberty of placing him and his entourage in the west wing and the day staff is seeing to the preparations."

"Good choice." Bruce swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose slowly, holding his side.

"At least we don't have to redecorate."

"Speaking of such, Mr. Winston..."

"The guy from the Monarch?"

"Yes, sir. He called to say that by working around the clock, they should be able to replace the carpet in time for the performance."

"Excellent. I hadn't realized what poor shape it was in until I was nose-to-nose with it." He took off his pajama top with calculated movements. "Think I'll drop in today and check it out."

"Another day's rest wouldn't hurt your condition, Master Bruce."

"If I go slowly, I'll be okay." He reached for his shirt only to check his movements with a wince. "Besides, I've got those painkillers Leslie prescribed if it gets too bad."

"That would only be reassuring if I knew you would actually condescend to taking one."

*bbbb*

Bruce Wayne stuck his head around the edge of the museum door and his mouth dropped open. It was nearly impossible to impress him, but the staff of the Flugelheim had managed it.

"Mr. Wayne, what do you think?" the curator asked, scurrying across the cat mosaic floor that had been laid over the regular floor to greet the museum's wealthiest patron. Several heads turned at the name, but none of the other people mulling about the open hall made any attempt to approach either man.

"I am very impressed, Mr. Fleshorn," Bruce said, looking around and nodding. He unbuttoned his coat to permit the warmth in. "You and your staff have certainly done a considerable job."

"Thank you, sir. Would you care for a tour of the facilities?"

"I think I'll wait for Mr. Kodoshi's arrival for that. However, they tell me that Commissioner Gordon is here."

"Yes, sir, just putting the final touches on the alarm system. Would you like me to take you to him?"

"If you would be so kind. Have all the displays arrived?"

"All with the exception of the Smithsonian and we are expecting them at any moment. Of course, the crowning jewel of the display with be Mr. Kodoshi's own "Persian Cat with Butterflies" It was painted by what I understand was one of Japan's most foremost artists."

"Among others," Bruce murmured as they moved past workmen, museum staff and several dark-suited men. They looked out of place and Bruce stared after them, finally asking, "Who are...?"

"The German security representatives, Mr. Wayne. As Commissioner Gordon will tell you, the measures that we have had to take have been a bit taxing on all of us. Hopefully the national attention that the Flugelheim will receive will be payment tenfold. "You certainly will be in the spotlight," Bruce agreed, smiling as he spotted the commissioner's bulky frame. Gordon noticed his approach at the same time and broke away from the foursome he'd been part of.

"Finally decided to climb out of that hot tub?" Gordon asked as he neared.

"A day like today could make a man reconsider," Bruce said. "How's everything going?"

Gordon slipped an arm around the younger man's shoulders and leaned closer conspiratorially. "This is just between you and me, but I don't think even Batman could get in here without us knowing about it."

Bruce kept a smile from his lips and wondered if he was up to the challenge. It might be fun just to try. After all, Kodoshi had to sleep at some point. Gravely, he nodded, then, "Did you see Knox's story this morning?"

"What do you make of it? Catwoman turning over a new leaf? Don't you believe it for a minute," Gordon said, slapping a muscular shoulder.

"I don't, but I can't help wondering what her angle is."

*bbbb*

Luxuriating in the sudsy warm water of her bathtub, Selina set the wine glass aside and picked up the copies of a newspaper article she'd made earlier. 'Thomas Wayne Murdered!' The sub below it continued, 'Prominent Doctor, wife slain in robbery'. Unidentified gunman leaves child unharmed.' The photo hadn't come out very well, but it wasn't what Selina was interested in. She began to read how an unknown assailant had gunned down the doctor and his wife as they left the Monarch Theater. Their young son, Bruce, watched the entire thing, but was not harmed.

"Yeah, right," Selina said aloud and several of the nearby cats looked over, in case it was one of them being addressed. "You didn't hurt him, you just scrambled his brains...just like Schreck scrambled mine." She read further. Because he was now an orphan, with no living relatives, Bruce was turned over to a social worker, Leslie Thompkins.

She climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her. A quick check in the phone book proved her theory. A Dr. Leslie Thompkins was head of the free clinic in Crime Alley.

"So that's why he went there." Selina said, smiling - she was turning into a pretty good detective too. Maybe she should think about giving the Batman a run for his title of world's greatest detective.

She picked up the first page and stared at the photo of two draped bodies and a very frightened and angry eight-year old Bruce Wayne. A twinge ran through her and she pursed her lips. After a moment, she reached for the phone and dialed a number. It rang twice and then answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Daddy, it's me."

*bbbb*

Bruce Wayne watched the private jet taxi up to the gate. Already reporters had gathered around, each trying to elbow the other out of the way.

"It would appear that Mr. Kodoshi has arrived," Alfred said and his employer nodded as the gangway moved out, like a giant leech ready to suck the plane's contents out.

A short, well-built man stepped through the doorway, holding his hand up against the sudden explosion of flashbulbs and Bruce indicated him. "There will be his bodyguard. I guess it's time to go rescue Kodoshi-san from the throng."

Used to a life filled with cameras and reporters, Bruce pushed his way easily through them to the front of the crowd. The police let him pass, but as he neared the door, the bodyguard moved to intercept him.

"It's all right," Bruce said in Japanese. He bowed to the man, grimacing as ribs protested. "I am Bruce Wayne." The bodyguard regarded him for a moment, then returned the bow.

A slender man appeared, smiling as he spotted the dark-haired philanthropist, "Ah, Wayne-san, how good it is to meet you face-to-face. You are much younger than I expected."

"Thank you, Kodoshi-san I am honored to welcome you to my home," Bruce said in the man's native tongue as they exchanged bows and then they turned to the crowd.

"I'm afraid that I do not speak your language well, but thank you for permitting me to visit," Kodoshi said in delicately accented English. "It is a great honor to be given such a warm welcome."

A barrage of voices, each trying to drown out the other, broke out and Kodoshi held up a hand for silence, then pointed to a reporter from Channel 3.

"Mr. Kodoshi, is this trip simply for pleasure or are the rumor about a merger between Kodoshi Electronics and Wayne Technologies true?"

Bruce leaned closer to Kodoshi as he rapidly translated the man's question. The Japanese looked at Wayne who merely shook his head.

"I assure you that I am here to welcome in the Year of the Tiger." Kodoshi started in English, then he broke into Japanese. Bruce listened for a moment, then smiled. Bowing, he sobered and turned to the crowd.

"Mr. Kodoshi is openly confused by the second part of your question and I'd personally like to know where you heard that rumor. There has been no discussion or even a suggestion of such a merger and I'm fairly certain that one of us would have heard of it if there was something like that in the works."

The questioning session went on for nearly an hour before Bruce held up a dismissing hand. "I think we've all earned a rest for a while. Thank you for your interest." He indicated a direction and the bodyguard positioned himself in front of the pair, pushing away anyone who ventured too close.

The mob followed them up to the Bentley Grey Ghost and then surrounded it, as if the cameras could photograph through the smoked glass windows.

Kodoshi let out a breath and reclined back against the seat. "Such enthusiasm for their trade!"

"They are excited about your arrival, Kodoshi-san, as am I."

"Will it be this bad all the time?"

"Probably. The price you pay for success, I suppose." Bruce poured sake into one glass and handed it to Kodoshi, then waited for Kodoshi to reciprocate. "Kampai."

"You know much of our customs, Wayne-san."

"I spent a lot of time there when I was younger," Bruce said sipping the hot alcohol from his glass. Of course, it was under the tutorage of Japan's most learned martial arts sensei, but Kodoshi didn't need to know that, Bruce thought as he considered the flavor of the sake. He personally would have preferred some mineral water instead, but gracious is as gracious does.

*bbbb*

Selina Kyle sat quietly savoring the opening strains of Mr. Mistoffelees, her favorite piece from Cats. The performance was nearly over and the evening had been blissfully trouble free. Selina had been too much on edge to enjoy much of the first act, but she had gradually relaxed, and by Act Two, her attention was focused more upon the stage than anywhere else.

A noise? Something drew her glare and her mouth dropped open. Set up not ten yards from her shadow-draped hiding spot was a gunman. He was sighting his target even as she watched.

Good lord, Selina, wake up and count the kittens! she thought as she sprang into action. Her whip was out and she flexed it, the tips of the bullwhip curling around the muzzle of the rifle. She yanked back as hard as possible and the rifle flew from the assailant's grip.

"Hey, stud," Selina said, under the cover of the music below their feet. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to point, especially with guns?"

"Bitch!" The gunman snarled and Selina grinned her voice a smooth even purr, "You got that right, TDS." She was within range now and lashed out with her right leg. "Tall," she said, as her foot connected with the man's midsection. She still couldn't figure why men didn't consider her a threat. She followed the right with a left judo kick. "Dark." She slammed her hand, palm first into the man's chin and watched as he collapsed nearly unconscious to the plywood of the catwalk. "And stupid." As he lolled groggily at her feet, Selina unsheathed her claws and slashed his face. "And that's for making me miss my favorite song. Think about it the next time you're shaving." It was nighty-night time for him and she obliged.

Using some black cord that was hanging from a railing, she bound the man tighter, maybe more so than was wise, but she wanted to be damned sure he wasn't going to go anywhere until after the curtain call. She found an old rag and stuffed it into his mouth. There, now everything was perfect.

*bbbb*

"Oh Wayne-san, that was wonderful," Kodoshi gushed as the actors left the stage for the last time. "This poet, Elliot, reminds me very much of some of our own poets."

"I've read some of them. I think I like..." Bruce trailed off as a uniformed policeman gestured to him from the curtained doorway of the theater box. "Please excuse me for a moment, Kodoshi-san. Then we'll go backstage and meet the actors." Bruce rose, bowed and took the three steps necessary to reach the cop. "What's wrong, officer?"

"Could you join me out in the hallway, Mr. Wayne?" The man looked really uncomfortable and Bruce nodded, stepping through the heavy velvet curtains.

"What's wrong?"

"I didn't want to worry Mr. Kodoshi, but we found an assassin in the catwalks, sir."

"What?" Bruce asked louder than he intended, then lower. "What happened?"

"I'm not really sure, sir. It's pretty weird. We had men stationed at all the entrances and exits, but somehow he got in and apparently was going to murder someone."

"Kodoshi, probably. Apparently?"

"Yes, sir, when we found him, he was bound and gagged. Looks like he had a fight with a wildcat. His face was all scratched."

Bruce hid the smile that was fighting to appear on his lips. So Selina had been with them tonight and had managed to thwart a murder attempt. What was getting into her?

*bbbb*

"Skimbles, what's getting into me?" Selina asked the brown tabby from her lounge on the sofa. She hadn't stuck around for the curtain call. Instead, she'd tucked away a program booklet in the jacket she had worn in as camouflage for her suit, put it on, let a cop know he should check the catwalks and headed for home, still humming pieces from the show.

If Skimbles knew the answer, he kept it hidden behind his purrs. He rolled over onto his back, displaying a tawny spotted stomach just right for a rub and Selina smiled. "I know better than to fall for that trap, my friend."

Or did she? In the last few days, she'd done everything contrary to her nature. Was it because she felt guilty about the header Bruce had taken off the catwalk? No, because she saw Bruce tonight with the Japanese guy and he looked not great, but okay.

Was it because Bruce had asked her to behave. She swatted at a fly that had zoomed in closer, but wasn't quite fast enough. Definitely not! She could care less what Bruce Wayne wanted. Never had, never would! This time the fly was history when he repeated his early attempt.

The cat up righted himself, watching his owner's antics with interest. Apparently disillusioned when she didn't eat what she'd caught, he stretched out and started to doze off even as Selina was getting to her feet.

It was still early, plenty of time to get into mischief and let everyone know that Catwoman hadn't gone...batty. Selina smiled to herself, then started at the knock on her door. Who? That creep from next door?

Silently, she moved to the door and stared out the peep hole. Then she smirked and began to undo the numerous lock.

"It didn't take you long to find me once you had the proper motivation," she said as she opened to the door for Bruce Wayne.

*bbbb*

Even now, he wasn't sure how she would respond to him, be it with anger, vengeance or nothing at all. Even with all they'd been through, he couldn't predict her, not like Penguin, Joker or Riddler. She was a loose wire.

"I've always known where you've been," Bruce admitted as he followed her into the apartment. It felt as if a pair of eyes were burning into his back and he glanced over his shoulder. Nothing there but another apartment. "What did you think of the show?" He asked as he closed the door behind him.

"You didn't come over here to ask me that." Selina collapsed onto the sofa and patted the cushion. After a moment, he joined her, easing himself down. "Still pretty sore?"

"Yeah, but nothing I can't live with," he answered before cocking an eyebrow at her. "How did you...?"

"Followed you to Dr. Thompkin's clinic. She's the social worker who found you that night."

"You've been busy, Selina." Bruce petted the back of a cat that was using him as a stepping stool. "But I can't figure out why." He studied her face as if seeing its plans and angles for the first time.

She stared back, then suddenly moved to kiss him, passionate and demanding. It startled him, but he responded back in kind, his tongue finding hers, tasting her, smelling her. At least until she tried to push him back on the couch. A spiral of pain shot up, threatening to explode from his head. His response was instinctive, pushing her away and trying to find something, some position that would stop the pain. He came off the couch to the floor, bruising his knees as he landed.

"Bruce?" She asked, but he couldn't talk, just breath heavily, a condition only further aggravated his condition. "Do you want to call Dr. Thompkins?" He shook his head, his hands trying to isolate the center of the pain, but it was beyond his reach. After a moment, there were a second pair on hands, touching the spot he couldn't. When Selina pressed in, Bruce groaned deep in his throat.

"Your rib must be pinching a nerve or something," Selina said as she pulled his shirt tails out. Lie down on the floor and I'll see what I can do." She slid her hands up his back, rubbing gently as she moved them slowly towards the trouble spot.

The next couple of minutes dragged on for hours, but as suddenly as it started, the pain burned out, leaving embers behind. He turned his head to look at her as she laid down beside him.

"Better?"

"Yeah," Bruce said, breathing carefully in case an in or exhale of air would start the process again.

"You're a fun date," Selina said, picking up a vial of white pills that had rolled from his pocket. "Pain pills or muscle relaxants?" A nod. "You'd better take a couple soon or you're not going to be able to get up."

"I'll just have to. Can't drive if I do."

"So? You can stay here."

"No offense, Selina, but it's been years since I've slept on the floor."

"You forget that I have a bad back too. I have an extra firm mattress." She reached out to touch his hair, catching a tightly curled lock between her fingers.

"You forget what started this entire situation." Bruce sat up, jaw set against the flares of pains that shot up in his spine. "If I got into bed with you, Selina, I'm afraid things would get even worse."

She smiled and kissed him again, this time more gently. "You can't blame a girl for trying. Take your pill and I'll drive you home."

"Why are you doing this, Selina?"

"Your short term memory is shot, Bruce. You said if you took that medication, you couldn't drive."

"You know what I mean." He reached out and cupped her cheek with a muscle-corded hand. "Talk to me, Selina."

"I...I can't, Bruce." She pulled away as she stumbled on his name.

"Try."

"How can I tell you when I don't know myself? Don't you see? I don't know myself. I do things that don't make sense not even to me, not even while I'm doing them." Tears were threatening now and she couldn't let him see that, so she laughed through them. "I just all messed up."

"Not any worse than me. Let me help un-mess you, then," he said, reaching out again. This time she didn't pull away. "Believe me, I know what you're going through. I can help but only if you'll let me."

"Someday I will," she whispered into his hand as it caressed her face. "Right now, I'd better change so we can get you home. Your Japanese house guest will be missing you."

"I'd forgotten about him."

"Obviously."

*bbbb*

They must have made a strange couple exiting from her apartment. She practically had to brace Bruce up against a corridor wall to get his shirt tucked in. He wasn't kidding when he'd said that drugs really affected him. They barely got to the car before he zoned out, asleep even as she went through his pants pockets for the car keys. As her hand searched a pocket, Selina toyed with the idea of seeing just how asleep he really was, but nixed it. What good would it do either of them?

It took two knocks on the mammoth oak doors before one smoothly opened to reveal Alfred Pennyworth, the ultimate example of British butler. From the tip of his white gloves to the shine of his black shoes, everything about him was perfect.

"Miss Kyle?" His voice didn't ask, "What are you doing here at this time of night?", but his tone implied it. She smiled sweetly at him and indicated Bruce's Jaguar.

"I've brought the master of the manor home, but I need some help getting him out of the car."

"Master Bruce? Is he...?"

"Stoked to the gills on pain pills." Selina led the way back to the car and opened the passenger's door regarding the man held in place by seatbelts. "Does it always affect him like this?"

"He has a low tolerance of medication, which works both for and against him, I suppose." Alfred reached in and under the seat belt. If he noticed the man's rumpled condition, he chose not to comment upon it.

After they'd gotten Bruce tucked into bed, Selina followed Alfred down the hall.

"Did you and Master Bruce manage to come to an agreement?"

"I don't think we ever will, Alfred." Selina just managed to hide a yawn. It wasn't that late, but she was exhausted. It took a lot more energy to play super goody-goody than plain old cat burglar.

"That is truly a pity, Miss Kyle. I would be glad to drive you home now, although there is plenty of room in the Manor, if you would prefer to stay." Did she detect a hopeful note in his voice?

Now that was an idea. "It wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"It would only take a moment, ma'am."

Selina smiled warmly. She really liked Alfred's style. "That would be wonderful, thank you."

"Very good, ma'am." The butler seemed positively delighted with her decision, although it was probably due more to the fact that he was avoiding the drive to Gotham and back. "If you would like to wait in the library, I shall prepare your room."

Selina slowly walked around the perimeter of the room, studying the antiques, the books, and the paintings. It was moments like this that she remembered just who and how wealthy Bruce Wayne really was. He always just seemed like a normal guy to her - well as normal as someone who dresses up like a bat could be.

A soft rustle drew her attention and she smiled as she knelt to caress the black fur.

"Miss Kitty, how are you, darling?" She picked the cat up to cuddle her and let the cat rub her cheek against hers. "How's your little playmate?" Spooky looked out from behind the chair where she'd been hiding and Selina talked softly to her, coaxing one cat out while petting the other.

She was so engrossed in the animals that she didn't even hear the approach of the man. Or perhaps she wouldn't have even if she hadn't been so delightfully distracted.

"Another worshipper of felines, I see." The man's Japanese accent make the words soft and lyrical.

Selina smiled and nodded, "What house can call itself a home unless it has a properly pampered, properly revered cat in it?"

"Mark Twain?"

Selina nodded, "I don't remember the entire quote." She let Miss Kitty slid from her embrace, stood and faced the speaker.

"Are you another house guest of Wayne-san?" The man bowed slightly to her and Selina returned the gesture.

"Of a fashion. You must be Mr. Kodoshi. I'm Selina Kyle."

"I'm very pleased to meet you. All of you," he said, reaching down to pat a black head. "I knew that Wayne-san had two cats, but had not seen them yet." The gray cat had finally come out and touched her nose to Kodoshi's outstretched fingers. Almost immediately she began to purr and rub against them. "Obviously they are known to you."

Selina nodded as the black cat came prancing back to her. "I gave Bruce Miss Kitty."

"Miss Kitty?"

"He called her Aggie, but I can't get used to it and she doesn't seem to mind two names, do you, sweetie?" The cat chirped and made her intentions wanting to be picked up very obvious.

"She still holds you in great affection," Kodoshi said, smiling as he picked up the gray cat. For her part, Spooky was acting as if she'd died and gone to heaven.

"Miss Kyle?" Alfred's voice came from the door, immediately followed by. "Excuse me, I didn't realize."

"It is all right, Alfred. Mr. Kodoshi and I were just swapping cat tales."

"Your room is ready, ma'am." The butler turned his attention to their Japanese visitor. "Is there something wrong, sir?"

"An inability to sleep because of the time zones. It happens frequently. Kodoshi looked down at his armful of gray fur and nodded his head. "However, I do believe I have found the perfect sleep aid."

*bbbb*

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes suddenly as if abruptly realizing that there was some place he was supposed to be at the moment. He sat up more quickly than his condition warranted and a sliver of pain rippled across rib cage. His hand came up to hold a spot even as he looked around the dim room.

"Good morning, Master Bruce," Alfred said, glancing over from his task of brushing out a black blazer. The glow of the armoire's light gave him a halo effect. "Did you sleep well?"

"I don't know," Bruce muttered. He had a headache and felt grumpy, but that would never do with a guest of Kodoshi's magnitude. "Alfred would you please put a call in to Leslie and see if there's something else she can prescribe for the pain. I can't keep taking the ones..." He stopped as his brow furrowed. "Wait a minute, how did I get here? The last thing I remember was being in Selina's apartment."

"Why don't you ask me for yourself?" asked a voice buried within the ample contours of an overstuffed armchair. A shape stood and walked to the window. Pulling the curtain aside was an awkward task, but Selina made it look graceful.

"If you will excuse me, I shall prepare breakfast," Alfred said, suddenly as if afraid of the impending exchange. He walked smoothly but hurriedly from the room even as Bruce was blinking painfully at the morning light.

"What's got into him?" Selina asked as she approached the bed.

"You got me," Bruce mumbled, rearranging his sheets around his waist. Whatever incredible feats he got into last night a pair of pajamas wasn't included and he had no intention of sharing that fact with the woman who was standing over him.

"Yes, it would appear that way," Selina purred as she sat down on the bed and began to push the sheets aside.

"Selina, do you mind?" He tried to right them again, but her hand was firm...too firm.

"Bruce, don't you remember you told me that you'd give me anything I wanted in exchange for not interfering with you and the little block party." She wet her lips and smiled. "Well, I think we can both agree that I have certainly lived up to my end of the bargain. And I think I've finally decided on what I want. It's been too long, with too many interruptions."

"I didn't mean me, Selina."

"Didn't you?"

"I can't..." he protested as she removed the last of the bedclothes and smiled at the sight.

"Oh, I think you can, Bruce."

If Alfred found their rumpled condition or that fact that Selina was now in bed with his employer peculiar when he returned an hour later, he made no mention of it. Nor did his face betray a single emotion as he turned to address Wayne.

"Mr. Kodoshi's party is beginning to stir. I have taken the liberty of converting the west wing's sitting room into their dining facilities."

"Thank you. Has Kodoshi-san rising yet?"

"No, sir, he was up very late last night as a result of the time shift."

"Let me know immediately when he is awake and I'll..." Bruce paused and looked over at Selina. "...we'll take tea with him."

"Yes, sir." The butler took a step towards the closet, but froze at Bruce's voice.

"Umm, Alfred, could you leave that until later. I'm... ah... kinda busy...right now."

The butler made no move to hide the smile that slipped across his lips. "Very good, sir." He turned and walked smoothly across the room and shut the double doors behind him.

Bruce turned back to Selina. "Now where exactly were we?"

"You were getting ready to tell me why the Chinese are better at love making than Japanese." She began to move her hand gently beneath the sheet and Bruce's eyes half closed.

"Oh yes, that's right. It goes back to ancient times..."

*bbbb*

The Japanese businessman glanced up as the pair entered and stood with an ease that belied his age. Of course, he had a lifetime of sitting on the floor.

"Wayne-san, you are looking well rested this morning," Kodoshi spoke in Japanese as he bowed to first to the billionaire, then to the woman who stood beside him as they neared the low table.

"Very well rested, Kodoshi-san." Bruce answered as he returned the bow, then switched to English, "May I introduce Selina Kyle."

"I have already had the infinite pleasure of meeting Kyle-san," Kodoshi responded, also in English. "She and I spoke of cats last night."

"You won't find anyone who knows more about them, Kodoshi-san" Bruce said as they sat, Bruce more slowly than the others. His discomfort was immediately noticed by his guest.

"Are you all right, Wayne-san?"

"Too much rest," Bruce said, as he got to the floor and exhaled a sigh of relief. "It leaves me stiff."

"Not a chance of that," Selina muttered and Bruce snapped a warning look in her direction. Kodoshi apparently did not pick up on the innuendo or chose not to comment upon it. Instead he said,

"I wish to thank you for your wonderful accommodations. I have been warmed by both your hospitality and your considerations."

"Wait until you see what's coming," Bruce said, pouring tea for Kodoshi and Selina. "This evening we'll be attending the opening of the worldwide cat exhibit at the Flugelheim Museum with a reception here to follow. What little I've seen has been incredible."

"Will Kyle-san be joining us?"

"I don't know," Bruce said, pausing in mid-task. "Will you be, Selina?"

She regarded him seriously over rim of her cup. "I have to go home and feed my cats. I may drop by later."

"You have cats as well?" Kodoshi was delighted with the admission as he poured Wayne's tea. "May I meet them?"

Selina looked over at Bruce, who shrugged. "I guess that would all right," she said, smiling at the Japanese. It was obviously that cats were one of the most important things in this man's life and that made it hard not to like him.

*bbbb*

"The place is a mess," Selina said as she led Kodoshi down the hallway to her apartment. "Especially since the cats have been on their own for a while. When the people are away, the cats will play."

Kodoshi laughed and nodded. "How well I know that. My little Nieko can devastate a house in no time flat when she puts her mind to it. It's quite remarkable. It is only a shame that Wayne-san couldn't join us."

"Bruce has a lot of irons in the fire. He's too busy for his own good. Hopefully he'll learn to slow down one of these days before his health makes it mandatory." She unlocked her door, then glanced quickly over her shoulder. Sure enough she caught the door across the hall closing. That guy was making her crazy. She didn't need a nursemaid and she pointedly ignored the two yellow roses that rested on her door mat.

"Please come in," Selina allowed Kodoshi to precede her and the man laughed in delight at the plethora of cats who had responded to the noise of a key in the lock. "Make yourself at home, Mr. Kodoshi. I'm going to feed them."

"Permit me to help."

"You don't have to" Selina said, heading towards the kitchen.

"I know, but I miss my own even after this short a period of time."

She could empathize, "Okay, you get the dry food."

They were half way through the task when there came a loud knock to the front door. Selina jumped and then smiled. "Bruce must have decided to join us after all," she said to Kodoshi as she wiped off her hands. "He can handle filling the water bowls." She walked quickly across the carpet and opened the door, neglecting to check the peep hole.

Smart move, Selina," she thought as she looked down at the gun pointed at her midsection. "Can I help you with something," she asked, glaring at her next door neighbor.

"I've seen what you've been doing," the man said, poking the gun closer to her. "It's got to stop, darling. For our own goods."

"Darling?" This was news to her.

Kodoshi walked from the kitchen. "Is that you, Wayne-san?" The gun jerked in that direction and Selina pounced, taking a surprised Kodoshi to the rug just in front of a round of gunfire. The bullet left a neat hole in her wall. So much for the security deposit.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Selina shouted as she made sure that Kodoshi was protected by her body.

"All these men. I'll forgive you whatever you've done, but this parading of strange men into your apartment has to stop, my love. It's the only way we stand a chance."

"What are you talking about? I don't even know your name." She got to her feet, still keeping Kodoshi behind her.

"But I know yours, I know all about you. Samantha Williams, its music, like a song."

"What is happening please, Kyle-san?" Kodoshi asked, softly.

"Apparently my next door neighbor thinks that he and I are sharing more than a common hallway," she murmured over her shoulder. "Just stay behind me. I don't think he'll hurt you."

Cats that had scattered during the gunfire were slowly starting to come out of their hiding places. The man scowled at them. "Get out of here," he screamed. "Filthy, degenerate beasts!"

"Look who's calling the kettle black," Selina said, her ire in full force. "You're treading on dangerous grounds, bucko."

"No, it's you who's treading. You and... him."

Selina glanced back over her shoulder at her houseguest. "Mr. Kodoshi happens to be a cat fancier who came by to see my cats."

"I mean...him." The last word was so heavily laced with disgust that Selina made a face. Its meaning took her a minute longer. "You mean...Bruce?" She started to laugh and dismissed him with a hand. "He's a friend."

"You had your hands down his pants! In public!"

"First off, mister, what I chose to do with my hands is my business. Secondly, you're trespassing. Thirdly, you're starting to annoy the hell out of me. Get out of here!"

"No, you can't make me. I love you. I'll prove it by getting rid of these parasites." He took aim at a napping Himalayan and Selina moved, faster than she'd ever moved before, pushing the cat out of the way. Immediately the cats scattered again at the sound of the gunshot and Selina rolled to her feet, ready to take on the man who'd dared to try to hurt her cats. If he thought he's had trouble before, it was nothing compared to what Selina was prepared to do to him.

"Oh my god," the man whispered and Selina glanced down. Her side was bleeding and she suddenly realized she'd been hit. Strangely enough, there was no pain, nothing like when Shreck unloaded six bullets into her, but she was abruptly light headed. This hadn't happened before.

She staggered a step towards Kodoshi and stumbled. As he caught her, Selina looked up into his dark brown eyes and the phone started to ring. Bruce, where are you when I really need you?

*bbbb*

Bruce Wayne glanced at his watch and drummed his fingers against the keyboard of his computer. Selina and Kodoshi had been gone for hours and he was starting to get more than a little annoyed. Selina knew that the museum opening was at eight. It was nearly seven now.

"Still no word, Master Bruce," Alfred said from the doorway. "I have attempted to ring her apartment, but there is no answer."

"This just isn't like Selina. I know she wouldn't hurt Kodoshi," Bruce said, taking off his wire rims and dropping them to the desk top. He thought for a moment, then made up his mind. I'm going out, Alfred. If I'm not back, make up some kind of excuse for me."

"I have had considerable experience at that, sir." the butler watched as the man stepped to a grandfather clock and set the hands to 10:52, the exact moment his parent were gunned down. The clock's locking mechanism released, he pulled the clock forward and stepped into the darkness.

The traffic was snarled, worse than usual because of the extra visitors, but he picked and dodged his way through the worst of it. Most cars moved when they saw the sleek black vehicle charging towards them at several miles above the speed limit.

He pulled the vehicle over and climbed from it as quickly as his ribs permitted. There was a nagging bell ringing in the back of his head, warning him of something yet unknown. Aiming the grappling gun at the roof of the apartment complex, he fired. Once satisfied that it would hold his weight, he hit the retracting mechanism and went up, grunting softly as his ribs sang out in a chorus of protest at the jerk.

Finding her apartment from the outside proved more difficult than he'd suspected, but after a couple wrong turns, frightening a poodle out of two year's growth, he came to the right apartment. Or at least what he assumed to be the correct place, judging from the cats that crouched on the balcony.

Batman dropped quietly to the cement floor, catching his breath as the action shot a lance of pain through him. Damn, I'll be glad when my ribs healed; they are started to be a pain in the... He never finished the thought for he'd looked through the slightly parted curtains in on a gunman. Worse, Selina was stretched out on the floor with Kodoshi kneeling by her.

Leave her alone for a minute, Batman thought lightly as if afraid to even acknowledge that Selina might be badly hurt. He watched through the window as his hand dropped to his utility belt. It only took a second to locate the compartments he wanted. His fingers found the lock pick and withdrew it. Thankfully, the patio door had a spring lock and yielded to him without any protest at all. Pausing to make sure he had not alert the gunman, he returned the lock pick and withdrew a smoke pellet.

He jerked open the sliding glass door, tossed in the pellet and hit the pavement all in one smooth motion...well, as smooth as he was capable of at the present.

The effect was exactly what he'd hoped for. Startled, the gunman froze, but the cats went in a hundred different directions. Kodoshi was kneeling with Selina and out of the line of fire. Under the cover of the smoke, Batman moved in over a residential obstacle course.

He stood up not two feet in front of the man and Kodoshi gasped at the Batman seemingly materialized out of the smoke. In this small apartment, his presence was made even larger than usual.

"Not you too," the gunman snarled as he tried to bring his weapon up to shoot. "Was she screwing all of Gotham?"

Nice try, but no cigar, Batman thought as he stepped in, thrusting his hand out, palm first. It caught the man full in the face with a reassuring crack and sent him over backwards on the papari, tipping it over as he continued. Batman followed, without his usual flourish, the apartment was too small for that.

Somehow the man had kept his gun and now he took aim and fired. Batman caught it full in the chest and his ribs screamed out in protest as he dropped to a knee. His vision started to cloud and he gritted his teeth. Somehow he managed to hold onto consciousness.

He straightened and faced the gunman again. This parlor trick always seemed to work to his advantage and this time was no exception. The man paled and backed up until he was against the living room wall. Nowhere else to run, he tried for a second shot, aiming at the only spot of the Batman that was venerable to attack, his face. From the distance of a few feet, it wasn't likely that he could miss and the Batman froze. The gunman grinned and licked the blood from his lips.

"It stops here with you and him," he said, steadying himself for the recoil of the handgun. As he did, his foot found a cat tail and the cat exploded into a yowl of protest and pain. The gunman looked down and that was all the Batman needed

Batman stepped in and finished the job, quickly, efficiently and a little more violently than was absolutely necessary. Even though unconsciousness was going to be the sleeping companion of the gunman for quite some time, Batman took a moment to bind him. He judged that he only had a few minutes, probably more like seconds, before police arrived, so he knelt beside Selina and Kodoshi.

The Japanese stared at him, as if shocked to be this close to the crime fighter. Batman ignored him, for his concentration was upon the fallen woman. At the touch of his gloved hand, Selina stirred, looked up and smiled.

"It's about time you showed up," she murmured. He pulled her blouse up and she shook her head. "You men are always after only one thing."

"You're all right," Batman said, keeping the relief from his face and voice. "The police will be here any minute. They'll get you to the hospital."

"Not any hospital. I want to meet Dr. Thompkins."

This time the smile forced its way upon the pale lips and the cowled head nodded once. "All right, I'll see to it."

He straightened and looked at the still awed Kodoshi. The man's eyes never left him as the Batman moved to the table, located a piece of paper and scribbled down an address.

"When the EMTs arrived, have them take her there. They will be expecting her."

"But you, honorable warrior..."

There was a pounding at the door and the Batman took a step towards the balcony. "I'm history," he said and a few more steps took him to the railing and without blinking or a moment's hesitation, he went over the railing into the night just as the door was breaking inwards. He had no idea if Kodoshi rushed to the balcony to try to spot him, black form against the black night.

It was time for him to go to work.

*bbbb*

Both Wayne and Kodoshi held their glass up to the woman and Selina smiled back at them. Dr. Thompkins had been adamant that she take it easy and the two men who flanked her had seen to it that she did. Selina was beginning to feel oppressed, confined and knew it would soon be time for her to disappear from view and take her pleasure in solitude.

Somehow she sensed that Bruce Wayne knew and understood this. Both of them were too much alike to not recognize the symptoms, to not know what was just around the corner and like Selina, he acknowledged and accepted it. She's seen the violent blue eyes grow sadder as the day of her impending departure loomed closer. It was really a shame, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. It was just the way things were.

She suddenly became aware that Kodoshi had asked her a question and she smiled over at him. "I'm sorry, Kodoshi-san, I was wool gathering."

Kodoshi looked over at Wayne and Bruce smiled, saying in Japanese, "Day dreaming, Kodoshi-san, chasing mental butterflies." Switching back to English, he reiterated the businessman's question. "Kodoshi-san wanted to know what you thought of the exhibit." The billionaire had pulled a few strings and arranged a private viewing of the gallery so that Selina could admire the pieces without feeling rushed

"It was lovely. Some of those pieces were incredible." She smiled, leaving the, 'I'd like to have them for my personal collection.' unsaid. She'd made an agreement with the Batman and if anything, the Catwoman was good to her word. But after Kodoshi left, well, they'd better get that museum cleared out fast or she'd not be responsible for her actions.

Until then, it was nice to sit and watch, to have a ringside seat to the action instead of having to stand in the back, hoping to catch a glimpse.

"Your plane leaves tomorrow morning, doesn't it, Kodoshi-san?"

"Yes and I feel rather unfortunate about it - this has been so wonderful, so exciting to see so many people embrace their love of cats."

"We have a lot to thank them for," Selina said, lifting her glass to her mouth. "You might say that we owe them our lives."

"I shall certainly drink to that," Bruce said, rising his own glass up.

"In my country, we have a custom that we have occasion to take to extremes. The custom of gift giving. Whereas you narrow down the times to certain days, we Japanese feel that any day that you wish to express your gratitude to a friend, superior or relative is enough of a reason to give them a gift. We also use it to gain favor."

"The last time I came back from Japan, I was tempted to have a garage sale," Bruce muttered softly and Selina smiled at the comment as did Kodoshi.

"I have several a year, Wayne-san. It is, however, more of a challenge to find a gift that will not be returned, traded or given away to someone else. In this case, however, I feel that I have the perfect gift for you both." He snapped his fingers and the bodyguard, still trying to recoup what he felt was his lost favor, scurried out. Somehow the man had convinced himself that everything that had happened at Selina's apartment was his fault and he should be punished for it. Probably would have committed hari-kari if the practice was still permitted, but somehow Bruce had gotten to him, reasoned and talked him out of whatever foolishness he might have been considering. Bruce had a way of doing that and Selina wondered just what sort of song and dance he was planning to use on her.

The bodyguard returned, carrying an ornate basket with delicately shaped cat designs upon it. It was beautiful from anyone's point of view and Selina could not take her eyes off it. Kodoshi noticed this and beamed.

"You admire the basket, Kyle-san?"

"It's lovely. The craftsmanship in incredible."

"Then it is yours, but remember that when accepting a basket, one also accepts the contents," Kodoshi said, a smile in his eyes.

"That only seems fair," Selina admitted as the basket was placed in her lap. Her hand hesitated for just a moment before she removed the silk cloth covering the top. What she saw inside made her catch her breath. "Oh, Kodoshi-san, it's beautiful." She reached in and withdrew a statue of a cat dressed in a kimono. "What is it?"

"Wayne-san, do you know?"

It was as if the question startled the billionaire out of sleep. He blinked his eyes as if seeing the object for the first time when he had, in fact, been staring at it since Selina had taken it from the basket.

"Uh, it's called netsuke and originally they were designed to hold boxes and pouches onto the sash of a kimono."

"And do you recognize the figure?"

"It looks like one of the actor caricatured as cats that Kuniyoshi was so fond of painting."

"Very good, Wayne-san. It is Ohoye Kikugoro portraying the Cat Witch of Okabe"

"The detail is incredible," Selina said, turning the figure over in her fingers momentarily before passing it to Wayne to see.

"It is that. You almost expect to see it move or sing," Bruce said, examining it closely. "It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you say that, Wayne-san, for this is for you."

A servant had knelt before Kodoshi, holding out a cloth-draped square. Now the businessman removed the cloth to reveal a painting, delicately rendered in reds, blacks and gold. Yet it breathed life into the cat that was draped in robes and swathes of cloth.

Bruce stared at it for a long moment and then shook his head. "I couldn't accept this, Kodoshi-san, this is one of your country's most valued pieces of art. Kuniyoshi is too popular to have this cloistered away in my private collection."

"Ah, but you must accept, Wayne-san. How you chose to display it I leave to your capable and admirable imagination."

"Bruce? An imagination?" Selina's laughter drowned out the dark-haired man's immediate objections. "Kodoshi-san, he has none."

"I'll deal with you later," Bruce muttered, half-smiling at the woman. "Alfred?"

The butler appeared at the doorway and nodded in understanding. A moment later, two men were carrying in a cloth- draped square.

"I have a suspicious feeling about this," Kodoshi said in Japanese and Wayne nodded.

"You do well to suspect," Bruce said, rising to his feet. He walked over to the object and threw back the cloth, while stepping aside to keep the Japanese's view unobstructed. "It's certainly nothing to compare with your gift, but this was an engraving done by..."

"Wenceslaus Hollar," Kodoshi finished. "Cat Receiving a Deputation of Mice or Rats", where did you find it, Wayne-san? I have only seen photographs of it."

"You'll have to credit Selina for that. She has connections, lots of them."

"Kyle-san, it is beautiful."

"I knew you'd appreciate it, Kodoshi-san," she said, watching the man admire the engraving. "Bruce didn't seem to know where to turn, so I was happy to help. However, I have something for you." Selina reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small velvet bag. From within, she drew out the cut-crystal cat and Kodoshi gasped in pleasure.

Bruce leaned over to her, whispering, "Is that really yours to give, Selina? It's description is suspiciously close to the one missing from Mrs. Dulmire's robbery."

"Possession is nine-tenths the law, Bruce. I'm surprised you didn't remember that."

"I'm not surprised that you did." It was clear the man didn't approve, but Selina didn't care. It would always be this way with them. And for now, that suited Selina just fine.