Selina woke to sunlight; she could feel the warmth of it first on her face, before she gained the strength to open her eyes. There were great windows to her right that allowed a bright midday sun to burst into the otherwise unlit room she found herself in. She was too tired to move, but could feel the goose feather pillows propping her head up, and the Egyptian cotton sheets that enveloped her. Selina decided she was too tired to worry or even think about where she was, and instead chose to surrender to the luxury she was laid in.
She didn't know how many hours had passed when she woke up again, but she knew that she had to have been out for a while. The streaming brilliance of the morning had been replaced with the blood red of an either early morning or late afternoon sun. She had either been out for hours or an entire day from the first time she woke up, she hoped it was the former and not the latter. She still felt weak, but had the energy to scan the room this time. There was something familiar about where she was, the smell reminded her of something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but it was pleasant and oddly disarming. The room was dark, and about medium sized, she managed to push herself up with effort, and was able to see the entire room from her bed. The walls were painted a dark red that almost matched the mahogany floors. It was sparsely decorated, but the wardrobe, drawers, and bedside tables were lavishly crafted. She began to put the pieces together.
Looking over at the nearest bedside table, there was a bowl of what appeared to be lobster bisque, as well as a slice of French bread. She reached for it, but found her limbs heavier than they had ever been. It took her a few minutes to gather the energy to reach over and actually grab hold of the bowl. When she brought it over, she found herself to weak to hold it and had to sit it down on her leg. It was still warm, not hot, but warm. She guessed it had been left an hour or so ago. Concentrating, she lifted the spoon off the bedside table and brought the rich, delicious food to her lips. She ate as much as she could, before she had to stop from exhaustion, and because she knew if she ate such rich delicious food after not eating for a while, her night would most likely end with her ruining her wonderfully luxurious bed.
With the taste of a familiar meal still lingering on her lips, she smiled, as she finally seemed awake and strong enough to register all of the little clues around her. The dark richness of the room, the incredibly expensive furniture, but most of all, it was the smell. It smelled like him. She couldn't help herself, she smiled and almost purred to herself before she deposited the half eaten soup back on the side table and burrowed herself into the familiar sensations.
She had been lucky; by all rights she should be dead. She guessed that she had used up another of her nine lives. But she didn't want to think of what had happened, or what had almost happened. She wanted to bury herself in the soft Egyptian cotton, and nuzzle her pillow as she drifted off to sleep. She inhaled and searched through the various scents in the room to find the one she was looking for, it was his cologne. She sighed contentedly as she again drifted off to sleep.
"Bruce…"
When she awoke next, it was in the afternoon, almost sunset, and she wasn't alone. Years of thievery, fighting, of living on the streets, and just surviving had trained her well, and even she could see the dark shadow in the corner that was just a little too dark. She was still weak, she should conserve her strength, she knew she shouldn't even attempt to get up, but where was the fun in that? A little lie, to see if he would react that way she thought he would, or perhaps the way she hoped he would.
"I, where am I? Is anyone there?" She said with the best look of confusion and weakness she could mimic. She had become an excellent actress over the years; it was a valuable asset in her chosen career.
"Hello?" She asked again, before summoning the effort to swing her legs off the bed and sit up. The confusion she had faked, the weariness and pain had now become a reality though. Sometimes she hated herself, for the pains she would go through to have a little fun. She had been rewarded though, because when she looked up, the shadow had moved in front of her, and she was never happier to see or feel his familiar presence.
"Selina," he said in his deep baritone that she loved so much, "you have to rest." He put a large, calloused hand on her shoulder, and guided her back to the bed. His touch was soothing, and she loved how he always lingered when he touched her, even if he thought she didn't notice.
"I'd be more inclined to be a good patient and wait out my recovery if I had a little company." She said, her come hither smile was contrasted by how tired she suddenly felt. She must have been worse than she first imagined if this was keeping her from flirting with the Bat.
A smirk spread across Bruce's face, he loved how she never seemed to lose her playfulness. And he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about crawling in there with her, but what she needed was rest. She didn't need their complicated relationship, not now at least.
"What you need is sleep, and plenty of rest. You'll be here for a few weeks."
"Weeks? Good luck keeping me here that long, at least," she smiled again and gave him a wink, "not without a little incentive."
He sighed; he knew what she was doing. It was her own form of normalcy bias; she didn't want to dwell on the fact she had almost died, so she was treating this like any other of their interactions.
"You almost died Selina." He said, with a mixture of detached melancholy in his voice. "You're staying here until you're better. If you try and leave, I'll stop you."
"House arrest then?"
"I'm afraid so."
She pouted before leaning back on her goose feather pillows.
"If you keep the gourmet food and wonderful accommodations coming, then I suppose I could take some time off."
She then saw something, she had only seen a few times. Bruce took her hand, and his thumb rubbed her wrist a few times. He didn't say anything for a few seconds; he just sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand. He then left her hand and found her face, cupping it in his hand, before running it over her short black hair.
"Thank you." He said, before he got up and left the room. She knew why he left, it was night now, and he had work to do. But, for those moments where he was on the bed, he wasn't Batman or millionaire Bruce Wayne, he was just Bruce. He was just a man, an extraordinary man, but a man, holding on to someone that was precious to him. Someone he had seen brought back from the edge, and now just wanted to protect. Though the prospect of bed confinement seemed boring and daunting to someone who craved entertainment and fun like her, the way Bruce acted, how different he seemed, it made her feel like she was doing him a favor by staying. And if he was really so worried about her, she would.
A few minutes went by before Alfred came in. He had with him a cart that contained a salmon filet with red wine and roasted asparagus. She had regained enough strength now to move her right arm with minimal discomfort, and she greedily tore into the tender fish.
"I must say, it is refreshing to see you up and eating Ms. Kyle." The proper man standing next to her said, refilling her wine glass.
"Well it is delicious Alfred." She appreciated what he did for her, not just saving her life, but going out of her way to cook her favorite meals too.
"Master Wayne gave me a list of some of your favorite meals." He said, almost as though he read her mind, "I am glad to see you find them satisfactory. I have a hard time with seafood from time to time."
"It's perfect. Say, Alfred, how long have I been out of it?"
He checked his pocket watch before answering, "three days and almost five hours now. To be perfectly frank Ms. Kyle, the fact that you are eating and sitting up now is nothing short of remarkable. Even Master Dick took nearly five days after being almost fatally shot to eat of his own accord."
She took the compliment blindly before really thinking about it.
"What's remarkable is how blasé you are when comparing two people who were almost fatally shot."
"Almost as blasé as a woman who dresses like a cat and steals gems?" he spoke deadpan, "It is the cross I bear for Master Wayne and his protégés, and now you." Alfred spoke with a rye smile. "Anything can become routine if done routinely Ms. Kyle."
She had to admit, he had a point. Selina didn't live the most normal of lives, and Alfred being the Butler and personal assistant to Batman was no different.
"How is he, by the way?" The older man couldn't help but smile at the concern in her voice.
"He is consumed by his work Ms. Kyle. He has become obsessed with finding the person who attacked you. You know how he is when he feels he must do something he becomes…preoccupied. You gave him quite a fright it seems."
"I just hope he's safe," she said, returning the tray of food to Alfred. As he pushed it out, he smiled to himself. He liked Selina, he may not approve of her stealing, but he felt she was good for Bruce. He approved of them together. She was the only woman in his life that he felt could dwell in both the lives of Bruce and Batman. He paused at the door, before turning once more to her.
"He does care for you Ms. Kyle. And nearly losing you affected him. Be patient, he has a hard time discussing his feelings with others, but I have no doubt that what happened to you may, accelerate certain things. If I may be so bold as to say that. Goodnight Ms. Kyle. Let me know if you need anything."
And with that, the elderly English man left Selina stunned. She laid down, and saw that a TV had been installed at the foot of the bed, and a remote was placed on her bedside table. She tried watching a few shows, but nothing could keep her from thinking of what Alfred had said. She kept going back to Bruce holding her hand before he left, of how different it felt. Part of her was scared about what this would mean. She was comfortable with their little game of cat and bat. But the other half, she just kept thinking of how concerned Bruce was, how caring, and how it felt so right being near him.
She turned off the TV, and closed her eyes. The words of Alfred and the touch and smell of Bruce echoed in her mind. That night, she dreamt for the first time since the shooting. She dreamt of Bat signals and caressing hands, of fluttering capes, and warm embraces.
