A/N: Really haven't got much to say except that I have written the all time cliche of Bruce/Selina fandom. Their reunion and happy ever after fic. I just hope that it's not too lame. be sure to let me know!
Ch. 1
It was the tell tale wobble of her chin and lower lip that alerted her to the tears first. Sure, she had shed tears without it, but they were faked. Not real. Used to throw off suspicion or get out of sticky situations.
But this was real.
Selina did not cry often-not for real anyway. In fact, she could count the number of times she had truly bawled or sobbed in the past ten years on one hand. Her first reaction to such situations that would leave most shedding tears like waterfalls was to stop breathing. Suck in all the air and press her lips into a tiny, thin line of red. Sometimes she would close her eyes, just briefly, before facing whatever it was with the door locked firmly on those pesky, betraying emotions.
It took something truly unexpected or harrowing to bring her to tears. And this was both in a way.
The tightness of her throat and the hot liquid that blurred her vision came next. Her breathing came faster, heavier. The cop- Gordon- twitched but didn't look at her. She was grateful. Selina didn't know how she would have dealt with his sympathy, maybe even his own tears. She tried to push the tears away, put them back in their place. But they ignored her and a sob escaped the first time she tried to breath through her mouth versus her flailing, wobbling nostrils. She tried to swallow the hoarse lump down so it couldn't happen again, but it only got worse.
It was the noise that followed the light of the explosion that stirred them out of their shock. Remorse. The cop was the first to move. He shook himself savagely, almost baring his teeth in anger and grief before walking. Stilted movements of pain numbed legs quickly gave way to the determined walk of a man who knew how to hide his emotions. Leaving Selina alone.
She was alone. Again.
Forever.
The walk back to her apartment was slow, irritatingly so. She kept fighting back those tears- the white hot panic and rage and, Goddammit! All those dashed hopes- as she walked.
The cold air helped to hide the revealing red of her eyes and nose. The lipstick hid her pain chapped lips. A wind picked up and blew across her back, sending chilling goosebumps along her every appendage. From her fingertips to her very core. She told herself the shaking of her shoulders and jaw was from the winter breeze.
Sirens were wailing all over the place. People were in the streets; criminal and innocent alike helping one another to gather what provisions they could before tucking tail and evacuating the city. Batman may have saved them from the fire, but the radiation from a blast so close was still dangerous.
Selina didn't care. The rush of people would help to hide her from authorities until she could run the Clean Slate program and disappear forever. She had enough cash stashed away to get her out and keep her fed until she could find a job or score something that would sell for a pretty penny. She would be okay. Just okay.
The wobble returned and she had to force herself not to break out into a run. It was bad enough she was wearing her black catsuit and a mask on her head like said animal's ears, wearing a stolen, too-big coat to hide what she could of it. She didn't want to be bringing anymore attention to herself by tearing through the streets on four inch, serrated stilettos. Though a fast pace wasn't out of the question, considering.
Her flat was empty when she arrived. Bane's rule had seen to the gutting and pillaging of all the richer and poorer districts. The middle classes had been mostly spared when they proved to be too common to find anything good or too hard of targets when people started firing pistols and shotguns. But she knew the apartment better than anyone so she knew the alcove was untouched.
She stripped herself of the coat and mask, tearing her suit and heels off as fast as she could. Tears were streaking from her eyes to her neck, moving too fast to catch. Too heavy to keep holding in. Wearing nothing now but a sports bra and women's boxers she dug through her drawers and closet for anything to wear. She had spent most of the occupation moving from expensive suite to stylish boutique whenever the fancy (or guilt) struck her. This was the first time she had been back her since Bru- The Batman had disappeared. There was too much guilt in these walls.
Most of her good cloths were gone. All her coats and shoes were missing or destroyed by the weather. Her drawers pulled out and turned over when the pillager was searching for hidden goods or false bottoms. What little remained were from her days scraping by on little scores and small jobs she could pull off while taking care of her little runaway tribe. But they were all dead or grown up.
She settled on a pair of comfy jeans, a black camisole and a pale pink Gotham sweatshirt she had stolen from a tourists shop with thick wool socks and bright green silk scarf. She found boots in the back of her closet that weren't too rotted and still had its laces. What few cloths she had left were stuffed into a canvas backpack while the Blank Slate went into her Jean pocket. Selina didn't pack anything else but her small makeup bag, a tube of lotion and toothpaste with her toothbrush and hairbrush. Anything else could be replaced or gone without. The only thing she did before synching up her pack, slinging it over her her shoulder and leaving with it and the coat was slam her heel into the floorboards- third from the west wall and second from the nightstand- snatch the contents and stuff them into her bag.
She didn't spare a backwards glance to the place that had held a roof over her head for five years. It wasn't home anyway.
The catsuit remained on the floor: purposely forgotten.
It was laughably easy to get out of Gotham. To slip through the crowds of panicked- yet joyous- people without being seen.
She wore a worn, black hat over her long hair. It was pulled back through the opening and tied in a messy bun. She wore no make up and with her hands in the coat pockets, pink hood poking out the back and holes in her pants, Selina blended into the crowd of refugees well. The winter weather of falling snow provided excellent cover and opportunity to bury her face in the cheap scarf. Getting on one of the buses the military had standing by for the chance at evacuations. Once the city had been cleared of radioactivity, Gotham's citizens would return.
Well, most of them.
One of them would never come back. Could never come back. The Batman, Bruce-
Selina bit her tongue till it nearly bled. She didn't know if she would ever understand why he still meant so much to her. She had betrayed him. She had tossed him to the wolves; to his death. All just to save herself and maybe, for one tiny microsecond of hope, to get a clean slate.
She had run when she had found out and Bane had destroyed him instead of hang around for the program. If he would do that to the Batman without shame, moral or guilt, there was nothing to stop him from doing the same (or worse) to her.
Besides, it would have been like blood money. And she wouldn't deal in that. Because once upon a time ago and before Harvey Dent, Batman had come to her rescue. In the Narrows, all those years ago, he had caught her as she fell out a window during a heist gone wrong. No questions asked; he simply caught her and flew off with some witty remark:
"Careful there. You're not a cat who lands on their feet every time."
She had detested him for that. She had to bury the racing in her heart somehow and that worked for her. Her costume and persona had all come together quite by accident and coincident, but his comment made her want to prove the leather (or was it Kevlar?) covered bastard wrong.
She didn't realize until that moment under Gotham, with the snapping of his spine, just how accurate his statement ended up being. Which made the guilt worse. Because she had betrayed him.
And, in the end, he had forgiven her and had faith in her. Something no one else had even done. There may have been kids she cared for in the Narrows, but they were taught to be wary of the hands that fed them since birth. So that didn't really count. Seeing as all it had done was to teach her to give up on others and look out for only herself.
Selina sat on the bus as it sped away from Gotham and its suburbs. She kept her mouth and nose hidden in the scarf to overwhelm the nerves there with the cloth. Because the silk was no where near as soft as his lips. The scarf became useful for another thing when her chin and lips wobbled. The ball cap was pulled lower as the tears grew heavier and thicker upon her cheeks. Others were crying in joy for what the Batman had done for them. Selina cried for Bruce and his lost life to people who could and would never understand him or his masks.
A/N: So this is the beginning of my new story. It's all finished and I will be posting regularly, so no worries there. I hope you all like it and feel free to leave a review. =)
Also, I wrote this shortly after my ferret or eight years died and since i never (seriously, never) cry, it surprised me just how much energy it takes. So I had a bit of experience and I hope that I portrayed it well enough.