Bruce stared across the desk, but try as he might, his eyes could not focus on the man sitting there. Glimpses of a grey pinstripe suit, a blue tie...possibly a wide girth, but nothing more. The man had a low, hollow-sounding voice—obtuse came to mind—but Bruce could not distinguish the words. He tried to stand up, to get at a better angle to see the man, but he could not move. He looked down. His hands were bound to the chair—his black-gloved hands. His Bat-suit! How did he find it? He could not even think about where he had hidden it all those years ago. The man droned on, was he pumping Bruce for information? Something that sounded like "count it good" stood out from the muddy syllables...
Bruce Wayne shot awake, sitting up and breathing heavily. He crawled out of bed and paced, trying to erase the dream from his memory so he could relax and continue sleeping.
How could one forget something that repeated itself night after night?
Bruce Wayne smelled the coffee before his eyes opened. He heard the trickle of pouring liquid, and he smiled. With a long sigh, he rolled over in bed and opened his eyes. Selina Kyle waited for him, his own shirt thrown over her lingerie, and a fresh cup of coffee in her hand.
Bruce smiled. "Did I ever tell you how amazing you are?"
She sauntered toward him and handed him the mug. "Made it like I like my men," she murmured seductively.
Bruce winked, "Black and strong?" he sipped, taking in the gripping intensity of the unadulterated beverage.
Selina laughed and straddled his bare midriff as he set the mug on the bedside table. "No—dark and steamy," she whispered back, bending over to kiss him.
"Good morning," he said as she pulled away and their foreheads rested agsinst each other.
"Good morning," she replied. Selina rolled away as Bruce rose and began his morning grooming routine.
"Where were you last night?" she asked.
Bruce only winced as she could not see his face, never slacking in his movements to give her any suspicions.
"We both know where I was last night," he reminded her, tossing her outfit from the previous night.
Selina sighed and unbuttoned Bruce's shirt from around her to dress in her own clothes. "That's not what I meant, Bruce," she pulled on the dress and began hunting for her shoes. "I woke up around one thirty and you were gone."
Bruce sighed. He'd been wrestling with the dream again, but she didn't have to know that. He turned to her.
"I just went to get some water, that's all."
Selina frowned; clearly she did not want to accept this, but clearly she did not have a choice.
Bruce was already grabbing coffee and a muffin. "See you at the office," he kissed her quickly and strode out the door.
Selina sighed and returned to her section of the master bedroom closet to select a more appropriate outfit for the day.
Selina stepped out of the taxi, coffee in hand. She knew Bruce would be watching for her, even from his office near the top of Wayne Tower. She stopped and waved toward the winking windows several dozen stories above her.
She was glad they were together now; Bruce really knew how to treat a girl, and now that they both were mature enough to fall comfortably into their professional lives, there was less need for pretense and exaggerated playacting. Bruce was no longer the philandering money-tosser that he had been; his encounter with Bane had sobered him up considerably, and in recent years he had fully encompassed the great man his father had been, both as a person and a businessman. Seeing him change had motivated Selina to become better, herself. She allowed herself a small smirk as she exited the elevator into the last place Catwoman would ever so much as consider going: Wayne Security & Insurance.
Selina, as part of what Bruce called "re-entry into normal life," had taken the position of secretary to George Villen, an investigator in the company. It was an unspoken universal understandng that Selina's role functioned beyond normal secretarial duties, to some criminal-informant consultations. She greeted Mr. Villen, who crouched over his desk like an angry gorilla, glaring at the claims lined up in front of him.
"What are we looking at today?" she asked, attempting to keep the atmosphere as stress-free as possible.
George pointed to each one in turn.
"Francis Hyster: jewelry stolen, house broken; Darla Parkman, stolen vehicle; Marcus and Gloria Benton, repeated false alarm trips, yet supposedly during one of these their house was actually being robbed; which brings us to my favorite—" Villen picked up the last claim and showed it to Selina with a dark grin. "Life insurance claim filed a week ago."
"What's so wonderful about that?" Selina asked, peering at the claim, "It means somebody died, doesn't it?"
"Typically, yeah," Villers laid the stack back on the table, "but this is Gotham. See the name?"
"Laura Danvers."
George bent over his laptop and began calling up information and feeds, "This is where it gets fun. This claim was dropped off in person by an unidentified woman, who then went on a shopping spree at Clementine's. Guess whose credit card showed up?"
A smile played at the corners of Selina's mouth as she guessed, "Ms. Danvers?"
Villen shook his head, "We haven't gotten confirmation yet that it was actually her—"
Selina rolled her eyes, "Oh please," she groaned, sliding in front of the laptop and flexing her fingers, "I hate waiting."
In a few keystrokes, she had hacked into the store's security feed and pulled up the footage from the time and day in question. Two minutes before the time stamp on the receipt, a woman appeared at the counter with an armload of evening gowns and lingerie. She kept her head down as the cashier rang up each of the items recorded on the receipt—then, in the moment before she signed the receipt, the woman lifted her head. Selina froze the frame that held a clear shot of her face.
"Damn..." Villen breathed. He squeezed Selina's shoulder. He smiled at her, "This is why I keep you, Kyle."
Selina kept her mood detached, but allowed a satisfied smirk. "And I thought it was for the sexy factor," she teased.
"Absolutely," Villen was busy shipping forms, memos, and reports to all the right people, "And you're never hotter than when you're doing what you do best!" He moved toward the door to inform his supervisor, but paused with his hand on the doorpost.
"Hey," he glanced back to Selina, "Would you mind taking a look at the other reports? There's not an investigator in the building who can pick out fraud like you do. Not even me; you're like a friggin' wizard at these things."
Selina did not feel very wizardly, but she forced herself to smile. "Sure; I'll get right on it."
Villen disappeared, and Selina's face fell.
Of course she was good; this was because she had spent so long pulling the same crimes herself, and getting away with it! She could pick out the slips and foibles of a fraudulent form because she was so sensitive to sniffing them out in her own attempts. She took a red pen, marked the forms where the claimant confused the fabricated story, and sat back to think about something else while she waited for Villen's return. She thought about Bruce.
Things were changing between them. For the first time, Selina was in a relationship where she did not have to prove her skill, or resign herself to the fact that she was just a nebulous, pleasureable entity in this man's life, like a hobby or a board game. Bruce made her feel like a person; he listened to her, he looked into her eyes when they talked—and he spoke of them together. Lately, he'd been dropping phrases like "maybe we will" and "after this is over we can" and terms like "us" and "settle." Selina savored the warm feeling blossoming over her body as she cnsidered the implication of these things. She could not remember a time when she ever felt like she belonged with someone. Her whole life had been looking out for Selina Kyle. She had to take care of herself because she could never count on someone else to do that. If she ever once let her guard slip, she would surely be high, dry, and destitute.
Then she met the Batman. He entered her world as a challenger, an indomitable adversary just begging for someone like Catwoman to outwit and overcome him. If he was going to become crime's most successful adversary, she would be his doppelgänger, crime's greatest ally. When all other criminals cowered in fear, Catwoman laughed in the face of the vigilant bat and dared him to dominate her. He had better chance of grasping a waterfall, she thought—except waterfalls didn't have hearts.
To subdue a man, she learned long ago, one must go for the heart. Reach a man's heart, and he is powerless against you. She who would not be mastered—even in a profession that professed to satisfy men's desires—succeeded time and again, leaving a string of deluded fools who paid with everything to get what they thought they wanted…never knowing that the girl who promised to give it to them always walked away unscathed and unspent.
Except the Batman.
Every time she went for his heart, she found herself spellbound by what she saw. The more she learned of him to uncover his weaknesses and flaws, the more he intrigued her. Every encounter left her spinning, running, disoriented, and stupefied. He frightened her not with his menace but with his humanity; in fighting so hard to unlock the vulnerability of his heart, she had unwittingly exposed the vestiges of her own humanity to his inspection. The rules of dominance dictated that such negligence should be capitalized on, that the attacker may freely ravage his enemy as punishment for such weakness.
Not Batman, Selina thought to herself, Not Bruce Wayne.
He never ravaged her; he never punished her. Any punishment she received at his hand was her fault alone: a successful punch during an altercation, or imprisonment in a trap because she had failed to heed the warnings or notice the signs. From Bruce Wayne, however, Selina Kyle had received only acceptance. Against the wishes of every other person in the Tower, Bruce had recommended "the ex-con" for a position with Wayne Security & Insurance, a position she filled very capably. When she expressed interest in the possibility of a relationship with him, he had accepted this as well. Granted, it could very well be a case of "keep your friends close and your enemies closer," but lately Selina had been picking up vibes that he might actually like being around her.
Villen returned, and Selina filed paperwork, filled out forms, and assisted in logistics till the security insurance officer tossed his pen down and sighed, "Well, I think we can call it a day. Good work, Selina. We'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure thing, Mr. Villen," Selina gathered her belongings and exited the office. Bruce should be on his way down by now; maybe they could pick up dinner at the new Italian restaurant.
She stood silent as she watched the elevator ascend toward her floor when she called it. Just before it arrived, she heard a chime behind her. The doors slid open to release an ecstatic giggle that made Selina turn around.
"Bruce!" the gasp slipped out before she could stop it.
The Chief Executive of Wayne Enterprises stepped out of the elevator wrapped in the arms of Jasmyne, a financial analyst at WSI. He barely glanced in Selina's direction before the blond woman in his arms moved in for another long kiss. Bruce pulled away laughing.
"Walk me to the office?" Jasmyne invited him.
"All the way," Bruce agreed warmly.
Selina quickly dove into the elevator to quell the surge she felt in the pit of her stomach. She berated herself over a lonely dinner of Chinese take-out. Why should she feel this way about Bruce? It wasn't like she owned him or anything! He and Jasmyne probably weren't serious; she would probably dump him as soon as she found something she didn't like, while he would not care in the least once the night was over. He would leave her in that office of hers, and come back to her. Selina threw on more comfortable clothes and sat in the den with the latest Bond film to wait for him.
Dashing James dispatched the villain and received a tongue-lashing from the irascible M and a commendation from the Queen before Selina's quick ears heard the motor of Bruce's Ferrarri pulling into the garage. She switched off the movie and barely had time to register not one but two pairs of footsteps approaching the door before it flung wide and Bruce stumbled in, practically carrying Jasmyne in an energetic embrace. Neither so much as acknowledged her existence as they made their way toward the master suite. Bruce took care to shut the door behind him, and that was that.
Selina stared numbly at the oak paneling.
"Sure, Bruce," she muttered to herself, "go right ahead. I don't mind using the guest room..." she sighed, "Not at all."