A big thank you to everyone who read, followed, and reviewed. Just to let you know, while this story is Bruce-Selina centric, I really appreciate the Gotham Writer's take, where they follow the tumultuous dynamic that is Batman and Catwoman's relationship. In following the tradition, it will be a while before they come to good terms because they have a lot to work through.
Also want to apologize because I'm pretty new to fan-fiction writing and haven't gotten an editor yet. Plan to go over these chapters at some point and revise, nothing major in the storyline, but just a general review for spelling, grammatical structure, story flow. Will let you know when I do.
Thanks again to everyone who read and especially to those who reviewed. Please feel free to leave comments, criticism and suggestions. I can't promise to use every suggestion, but will definitely keep them in mind.
Enjoy!
CHAPTER 2
A stilted silence filled the car. Bruce's grip tightened on the steering wheel and he offered Alfred, sitting in the passenger seat beside him, a stiff smile. Selina sat in the back, having insisted that Alfred ride up front.
"I imagine you have a lot of catching up to do," she had said. Bruce glanced her way in the rearview mirror. She sat, hands folded over one another in her lap, poised primly, as she gazed out the side window serenely, apparently deep in thought.
Something was off. It wasn't awkward exactly, but there was an unnatural quiet in the air, as if an unspoken force dared them to be silent. Bruce tried to think back to what had gone wrong. He and Alfred had embraced; the latter holding back tears. Selina had watched this encounter coolly, uninterested. When Bruce turned to embrace her as well, she returned the hug stiffly.
"Selina," he had said.
"Bruce," she had replied evenly, nodding curtly in his direction.
"You're looking well," he had said, not sure what to make of her aloofness. "I'm happy to see you walking."
She had given him a thin-lipped smile. "Three years before any of the doctors said I would." There was a bitterness in her tone that Bruce didn't understand. Wasn't she happy she was walking?
They loaded the luggage into the car, got in, and had now been traveling for a good few minutes in absolute silence. Alfred looked around, from Selina, to Bruce, a funny look on his face. He seemed to be deciding whether to say something or not.
"Well," he said at last. "I'm starving. What sort of delicious dinner have you cooked up for us, Master Bruce?" He had meant it to be funny, but Bruce responded without hesitation.
"An Italian lasagna dish with Greek salad, garlic bread and passion fruit parfait."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Passion fruit parfait?"
"They've been ripe for a while, I found a bunch on the estate and didn't know what to do with them." Bruce recalled the passion fruit vine that had become so overgrown it was growing up the side of their shed. He had tried to take an ax to it, but quickly realized trimming bushes would require a little more finesse than what an ax would offer. In fact, the entirety of the Wayne Manor estate grounds were in a considerably poor state; no one had tended to them in two years.
"Resourceful," Alfred said. "I'm nominally impressed."
"You know, I've been trying to keep the house in order while you were away."
"Have you?"
"I've been doing laundry, dishes, cleaning toilets." Bruce thought he caught the smallest of smiles from Selina in the back seat, but when he glanced at her again, she was back to staring out the window, indifference etched upon her face.
They pulled up to Wayne Manor not too long after. Alfred and Bruce had engaged in small talk the whole way home and both had initially tried to involve Selina in the conversation. She responded to their attempts with short replies or one-word sentences before returning to her musings/silence. Bruce and Alfred soon stopped asking.
They made their way inside with the luggage and Bruce noticed Alfred surveying the Wayne estate with a pained expression. Though he was silent about the state of the grounds - weeds everywhere, dead leaves and branches littering the floor, and overgrown trees and bushes in every corner – Bruce suspected he was already planning its restoration.
The suitcases stacked neatly by the front door, everyone made their way to the dining room for an early dinner. Alfred admired the set-table a little too enthusiastically and Bruce wondered if he was just trying to bridge what was quickly becoming an awkward dynamic, with Selina only talking when directly spoken to and never more than a sentence at a time. Bruce left the two of them at the table and entered the kitchen, busying himself with warming up the lasagna while he prepared the first course. He stacked a tray with the salad and rolls and a large pitcher of lemon water. Bringing it back out to the dining room, he was mildly surprised to hear Selina's voice in full conversation with Alfred – no stilted sentences, no long silences.
"…So I've been doing those exercises the therapist gave me, but I want at least two sessions a week now that we're here, because I think if I really push it, I can be walking normally in like two months."
Alfred listened thoughtfully and nodded his head in acknowledgement of Bruce as he sat down. "All the power to you, Selina, and I know I've said this many times before and you've proved me wrong each one, but don't be too hard on yourself. It's good to set goals, but you don't want to be disappointed -ah, thank you," he said as Bruce heaped some salad onto his plate.
Selina waved her hand in dismissal, but a smile played at her lips. "And, as you've said, I've proved you wrong. I intend to continue that. -Thank you, Bruce," she said offering her plate for some salad and a garlic roll, then asked conversationally, "What have you been up to lately?"
Bruce frowned, slightly unsettled by her sudden change in nature, the sudden warmth. He glanced curiously at Alfred, eating his garlic roll and not making eye contact, and wondered if he had something to do with it.
"Ah, well," Bruce served himself some food and sat down. "Things haven't been too bad lately, you know, not compared to how they were at first. There've been a couple crime rings that have grown out of all the chaos and we're working on one now. They've been stealing a lot of things – not with monetary value, but sentimental value, and then ransoming them off to their desperate owners." Bruce paused to take a bite of his food. "Anyway, we got a plant in the group last week, and they're planning a heist, so we hope to get them together and arrested all at once." He noticed Selina's absent expression and elaborated. "This time they're planning on stealing something with monetary value. We have a charity event coming up later this month, and the Queen has a necklace she's displaying at the gala. They're going to try steal that."
Selina arched an eyebrow. "The Queen? Of England?"
Bruce nodded, swallowing a bite of garlic bread. "Funds will go to rebuilding Gotham. There are a lot of cool pieces that have been donated for display. Most actually are worthless but have historic value. Like we have a pair of Elvis Presley's underwear. And the gun John Wilkes Boothe used to shoot Lincoln."
"One useless and one negative piece of history." Alfred shook his head disapprovingly.
Bruce shrugged. "It has interest. People will pay to see it."
"The rich do have a way of making money from nothing, don't they," Selina said.
"It's all going to charity," Bruce said.
Selina rolled her eyes and continued eating.
"Anyway, there are six guys that will be there at the gala," Bruce continued. "And we're working to catch them in action and arrest them all."
"Why not just arrest them now?" Selina asked. "Don't you have a plant? Doesn't he have evidence against them?"
"Not on all of them," Bruce corrected. "And it's quite an elaborate scheme they've set up. Very Ocean's 11-esque. So we want to make sure they're all there, at the event, before we make the arrests, or we could end up missing a few of them."
"I see," Alfred looked thoughtfully at Bruce. "And what part are you playing here exactly, Bruce?"
"Intermediary," Bruce said, through another bite of salad. "The plant can't talk to any of the cops directly. We're dealing with dangerous people here; one of the members has a history of cutting off the arms of his enemies and leaving them to bleed out. So I speak with the plant, and get that information to Gordon. You know, it's routine work, not particularly exciting, but Gordon tells me he hasn't ever seen such elaborate a set-up. It's cool to be a part of this, you know, I've heard a little about the schematics of the heist and frankly it's genius."
Selina narrowed her eyes at him but didn't say anything.
He continued. "I mean, from what I've seen, these guys are professionals. And they've only been in operation about a year, which makes it even more impressive."
Selina set her cup down. Alfred cleared his throat and said, "Not praising criminals, are we Master Bruce?"
"Well, they'll be behind bars soon enough."
Bruce soon headed to the kitchen and returned with the heated lasagna. The entire pan was emptied over the next half hour as they ate and talked. Alfred complimented Bruce on his growing skills as a chef, and Bruce told them a little more about what his long days looked like. Selina picked at her food and seemed to grow irritated as Bruce explained what his involvement in the case would be over the coming days. He didn't quite know what to make of her mood. She would chew her food quietly at times, apparently lost in thought, occasionally joining the conversation to ask a question or make a sarcastic comment, but otherwise seemed annoyed.
Once the passion fruit parfait had been served and eaten, Bruce cleared the table and Alfred stood, stifling a yawn. "I know it's only 6PM, Master Bruce, but I could do well with a good night's sleep."
"Of course." Bruce replied. "Your rooms are prepared with fresh bedding."
Selina seemed surprised at this announcement. "Oh, I'm not staying," she said, as if to clarify.
Bruce and Alfred turned to look at her.
"You're not?" Bruce asked, brows creased in a frown.
""Sorry, Bruce." She offered him an apologetic smile. "I have a friend who's offered me a place with them, and, well, I obviously can't stay at Wayne Manor forever, so I figured I'd head over. I don't have much stuff, I'll just need a taxi. Don't worry," she said at his pained expression. "I'll be back to visit soon."
Bruce was taken aback by the turn of events but quickly recovered. "Of course. You'll let me walk you out though?"
She nodded, turning to Alfred. "Alfred, thank you so much for everything. I don't know what I would have done without your grumpy cheer to keep me company." Her eyes welled for a moment and she stepped forward to embrace him.
"Of course, Miss Kyle," he said gruffly, returning the hug. "And you keep up your stubbornness, it'll get you far." He pulled away, eyes glistening, and looked from Bruce to Selina, then back again. He seemed puzzled, as if he wanted to say something but decided against it. "Very well. Good night, Selina. I'll see you shortly, Master Bruce." He nodded once more toward them and turned on his heels, exiting the dining room, toward the second floor.
Bruce and Selina stood in silence for a moment before Bruce gestured toward the hallway entrance and the two began making their way slowly to the front door.
Bruce spoke first. "It's good to have you back, Selina."
She didn't respond right away, just stared quietly ahead. Finally, she replied, without intonation, "It's good to be back." She limped forward, and Bruce noticed for the first time how heavy she was on her right foot.
"Does it hurt?" He asked, indicating toward her leg.
"A bit." She shrugged. "It hurt a lot more to think I wouldn't walk again."
"I can imagine." They continued forward down the hall and Bruce realized they were passing the sitting room, the very one that Jeremiah had shot Selina in - shot her, smiled, and left her bleeding out on the coffee table. He turned to look at her and was surprised to find her staring back at him, incredulity on her face.
"Can you?" She asked, angry. "Can you really imagine what that's like?"
"Bruce slowed his pace, before saying quietly, "No, Selina. I'm sure I have no idea."
"Damn right," she muttered.
Their pace slowed to a stop, half way down the hall, and they stared at one other.
"You can tell me about it, Selina," Bruce said softly. "You don't have to deal with it alone."
He had said the wrong thing. Selina's eyes narrowed to slits and she shook her head angrily. "Really, Bruce? Really? I spent three terrifying months thinking I would never walk again, and then endured over a year of agonizing therapy, every day, with doctors left and right making useless predictions about how long it would take for me to walk again - while I was still struggling to move my toes! And then," her voice grew higher, more strained, "I'm walking, months later, against everyone's expectations, and all they can say is how they knew I'd be able to do it, as if they hadn't been predicting my failure for months behind my back! I'm tired of people pretending to be on my side after I've done all the hard work - yes, alone!"
Bruce held up his hands and spoke, still maintaining a level tone. "Selina, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that I know it's been a while, but I want to hear about you – what you went through, where you are now."
Selina glared at him. "Why would you care? You've been lounging around your manor for two years learning how to clean toilets," she sneered at him derisively.
Bruce's brows furrowed together, the first hint of irritation in his eyes. "Of course I care, Selina. Don't pretend I don't, we both know that's not true."
"Why didn't you come with?" Selina asked suddenly, a sharp edge to her voice.
The crease in Bruce's brows deepened. "What do you mean?" He asked.
"I mean, why didn't you come with, to make sure I was okay, if you cared so much?"
Bruce's jaw set in a hard line. "Selina, they needed help here. You have no idea what it was like. I sent Alfred with you. Did he not make sure you were okay? Help you with whatever you needed?"
Selina scowled at him, resentment written on her face. She changed tactics. "It sure took you a long time to get in touch with us, Bruce. You'd think someone who cared would try a little harder." The fury was evident in her voice.
His expression darkened. "That's not fair Selina, and you know it. Of course I tried to find you, but I didn't have any leads to go on. Gotham hospital referred me to a shelter, but they had no idea where you might be!" He broke off, voice bitter, feeling unfairly blamed for a situation so clearly out of his control. "And it's not like you tried to get in touch with me. You knew exactly where I was!"
Selina's eyes were poisonous slits. "I was paralyzed from the waist down!" She spat.
They stood there, at an impasse, shooting daggers at one another with their glares, before Selina shook her head and turned, limping heavily toward the door. Grabbing the duffel bag beside the entrance, she turned to look back at Bruce.
"Thanks for your concern, Bruce," she hissed, and left, slamming the door behind her.
Bruce stood for a few minutes staring at the closed door, face hot, breathing heavily. That was not how things were supposed to go. Why couldn't she accept his care as genuine, his gestures as kind? Why did she have to question everything he did? He turned, still seething, and headed back to the dining room, a weight in his stomach. The sound of running water caught his attention, and he found Alfred in the kitchen, rinsing off dinner dishes. He wondered how much the butler had heard.
Alfred looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and pity.
"You don't have to do that," Bruce gestured toward the dishes, grabbing an apron and fastening it behind his back. "I thought you were going to get some sleep." He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice that had nothing to do with Alfred.
Alfred stepped away from the dishes, toward Bruce and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You can finish the dishes tonight, but tomorrow I'm back on duty, alright mate?"
Bruce nodded wordlessly, and trod toward the sink, placing his hands in the warm, sudsy water.
"Bruce," Alfred called from the kitchen doorway.
Bruce turned his head toward his older friend.
"Give her a little time, mate. She missed you something terrible."
