There's a difference between innocent and naïve, just like there's a difference between innocence and good
2.
The next morning when Bruce woke up, he went through his routine as usual: two-per-second pushups, one hundred of them; crunches; then an hour in the gym with the punching bag. He showered, got dressed in those fancy Armani suits that he didn't really like, and drove to work. Nothing was different, memories just chose to haunt him today more than other days.
People probably noticed that his dark brown eyes were empty, distant, far-off during the meeting, but he didn't care. At least he wasn't sleeping. He tried to push the thoughts away, the memories – bury them. Why wasn't it working today?
He had a late night last night but Bruce knew that wasn't what was wearing him down. But he was strong; he knew he didn't have to let it bother him. At night he was Batman, impervious to all pain. But sometimes as Bruce he felt things he didn't want to feel. He couldn't wait for the night to come and the sun to fall.
Bruce strode into the tall brick building and ignored watching eyes as he made his way to the elevator. He stared out the glassy, window-like elevator doors as the contraption made its way up to the tenth floor of Wayne Tower where the meeting was being held. He was already late but didn't think it would matter that much.
The elevator doors opened wide and Bruce Wayne walked into the meeting room without a passing glance of shame, but he could feel the repulsed eyes of his fellow business men on him. He ignored them and hurried to his seat and pulled his files out of his black leather briefcase.
Bruce went through the motions: he listened to the people talking in the meeting. Dull voices droned on and on but eventually the meeting ended. Later Bruce could be found sitting in his office signing the papers he needed to sign; glimpsing over files concerning Wayne Enterprises. His mind, however, was focused on more important things, such as the recent escape of the criminal mastermind the Joker, the rapist he caught last night (whom he suspected to not be but a one-time offender), and the newest criminal that was getting on his nerve – the Catwoman, who had somehow managed to evade capture since one week ago today when Batman had first spotted her.
Bruce stood up and placed his papers in his desk drawer and wearily flicked off the lights in his ample office and headed to a fundraiser he had promised to attend at 6 p.m. He put on the billionaire playboy façade and grinned that crooked grin that fooled everybody every time. Two models on his arms he sat at a table listening, actually only half-listening, to wealthy socialites drone out about superficial matters.
In the huge room the silver chandelier shone and music roared dully in the background as an exotic, dark-haired woman walked into the room, her bright green eyes narrowing as she took in the image of two models hanging on most popular bachelor Bruce Wayne and all of the people hovering around him. She huffed and walked forward, smiling at Bruce.
"Hi there," Bruce said.
"I'm Selina Kyle," she said. "You're Bruce Wayne, right?"
Bruce Wayne nodded.
"Well?" Selina said impatiently. "Do you want to dance?"
A part of Bruce wanted to say no, but he knew that the Bruce Wayne everybody thought he was would say yes. Besides, something was drawing him to Selina. He didn't know what it was…those vivacious, sharp green eyes, the way they seemed to hold so much mystery. He was drawn to her but he didn't want to be because he couldn't afford to have love in his life, not after what happened to Rachel.
"Sure," Bruce said, grinning and kissing the models on the cheek before departing from their arms.
Selina Kyle slyly placed her hand on Bruce's shoulder and winked. They linked elbows and walked onto the dance floor. The rhythm of the music pulsed through the room and in and out of their veins and for a moment Bruce forgot where he was, even who he was. Then he internally scolded himself for allowing himself to get lost in the moment.
They had been dancing for a while. "You want to find someplace alone?" Selina asked, smiling softly.
That was the moment Bruce chose to turn and look out the window. It was getting dark out. He must have been staring for a while because Selina said, "Bruce? What is it?"
Bruce turned back to Selina's eyes, then turned to look out the window and in that second he saw that the Bat Light had been turned on. Bruce tensed, already starting to shift his mental frame.
"I'm sorry, Selina, I have to go," Bruce said.
"What?!? Why?" Selina asked, reaching for his hand.
Bruce shook her off; he didn't have time for this. As he was walking towards the door Selina followed him.
"Don't follow me," Bruce said, perhaps too harshly. Then his voice softened, "I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain."
Once he was in the Batcave, Bruce pushed all thoughts of Selina and Rachel and Kristy out of his mind and quickly changed into his dark armor. His eyes darkened as he jumped into the Batmobile and drove out of the cave.
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Resonating in the sky shadows loomed over Gotham City, emphasizing the absence of light Gotham City was notorious for. Selina Kyle gazed out her window at the dull, wet streets as she stripped down from her unkindly party clothes and into the midnight black of her Cat-suit. She watched drunken man scramble into an alley, leaning tiredly against a navy blue cracked and warn down dumpster. Selina sighed at how pathetic Gothic was and cringed at the fact that she was back in Gotham, back where everything started. Except she wasn't, she was Selina Kyle now. Selina's eyes buckled as she took a trip down memory lane, yet the night was still young. It was 9 p.m. and Selina had ducked out of the fundraiser soon after Bruce Wayne ducked out on her. 'His behavior was uncharacteristically strange,' Selina thought as she attached her whip to her belt. 'But where have I seen him before?'
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It was a long time ago, back before Selina was Selina. It started with her parents, the way they never really paid attention to her and allowed her to do whatever she wanted to do. (This is how it starts). This is how it ends, also. There was a time when she would wear a light blue headband and walk down the halls of Gotham Academy Middle School, a little girl anxious to grow up.
"You have to go to school," her mom scolded with a harsh, biting tone.
She remembered shaking her head, not wanting to go to that place, not even before. And yet she walked the hallways, an invisible girl. She remembered sitting in her desk like a good little girl, doodling in her notebook, a passionate glaze spreading over her eyes. The teachers thought she was one of their star pupils, 'she's always taking notes,' her peers and indubitably her teachers had observed.
The bell rang; Stacy had run over to her and grinned, tugging on her sleeves. Stacy was always trying to get her to participate in group events and sometimes she complied, not really wanting to be alone.
"You have to come to this awesome party with us, Kris!"
She remembered smiling, linking hands with Stacy and falling into the rhythm of middle school feet pounding off to the cafeteria for lunch period.
"Sure, I guess," she had mumbled, or something like that. "Um, when is it?"
(That little girl nervous when it comes to speaking is dead now, so is half of her soul).
"Saturday," Stacy said elatedly. "Come on; let me introduce you to my friends."
Suddenly the hallways hadn't seemed so crowded and a lightness rushed through Kristy's veins and she felt a little bit freer than she ever had in her life. Stacy showed Kristy to a silver-gray table in the center of the table.
"Nikki, Devvon, Tessa, this is Kristy," Stacy had said, grinning.
She sat down at the table, not feeling quite like the girls she was sitting next to but she just wanted to feel accepted and she did now so everything was okay. She wanted to have friends so she could have fun and she didn't know that there was something here that wasn't quite right.
"Hi," she had said nervously, "What's up?"
She didn't really know what to say. She listened to Stacy's friends talk and giggled when they made a joke and tried to insert her own comments but she didn't really feel like she fit in and didn't completely know if she wanted to.
The clock ticked as smooth as ever and Saturday rolled along and she, Kristy (even though its her real name its been ages since she's been called that, so it feels weird to think of herself as Kristy in the memory), is sitting at her dresser in front of the mirror her mother (she's too old to call her "mommy", or at least that's what she said then) bought her for her thirteenth birthday. She gingerly places her finger on the green oval container that holds the concealer and opens it. This is easy, her first mask, then dainty fingers dab ivory makeup on her blemish-free face, then a little bit of rosemary blush, some eyeliner and mascara to hide (or emphasize, whichever you prefer) her eyes. She stood up, put on that tight, frilly jade-green dress (she never should have worn it) and sauntered over to her closet, bent down to pick up her matching jade purse.
She remembered turning on her radio and dancing in her room, testing out her outfit, testing out her new spirit. It's a good thing she did, too, because it might have been the last time she would ever be happy. It wouldn't be, though, Selina knew that now. But that moment, alone in her bedroom before everything started, it meant everything. Everything that she would never have again.
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Selina blinked, forcing herself out of the memory, blasting it ice cold as if she were Mr. Freeze. 'No,' Selina scolded herself, 'Don't think about the past. It's time for the Cat to prowl.' She had become what she was for a reason, to forget, and there was no way she was going to allow the memory to finish, lest she also be forced to remember her days in France.
Suited up and ready to go, Selina – no, Catwoman – leaped out of her window with dexterity and grace.
Selina, now Catwoman, embraced the darkness of the night as she ran across building tops and silently landing on top of the Art Museum.
TBK…
