Author's Note: Chapter update/replaced 5/13/17

If you've read this chapter before, you'll notice that I removed a scene from the original Chapter Two and included it here, where I think it's more appropriate. As usual, I've edited the narrative and dialogue. I think I added 1,000 words to this chapter, too.

Thanks so much for reading! This story is also being posted—with the newly edited chapters—on AO3, under my pseud, Arrowinthesky. So please check out the story there, too. :)


Wayne, the man she'd grieved—was grieving—was alive.

She was afraid to blink. Afraid he'd disappear if she did.

Because no one could've survived that blast.

No one.

Not even him.

The words she wanted to say lodged painfully in her throat as she stared at this apparition.

Not just words, but questions. That blast was—

Her thoughts suddenly stumbled in her disbelief. Beyond nuclear, she couldn't even describe the cloud she'd seen rising in the distance over the water. Nor could she describe the bittern sadness she'd felt in her heart knowing that a man had sacrificed everything for the people of Gotham. For her.

No one could've survived that bomb. No one. Not even Batman.

"Did you just drop my food?" Bruce Wayne, the not-dead variety, asked with a high arch to his brow.

"You weren't going to eat it anyway, so I hear," Selina found herself saying, if for nothing else but to prevent herself from raging at him because he'd kept this from her.

As if she had a right to know. A right to be considered worthy enough to know. Or the right to a place in the Batman's fold.

Bruce frowned, his furrowed brow aging him.

Or was it the pain she could see etched in his features, drawing lines across his forehead, that added years?

She swallowed hard, but the lump remained lodged there, unforgiving and heavy.

"I'm sort of hungry now," he said, frown deepening.

How could he even think of eating now?

She willed her heart to slow down. "You're dead."

"I am very much aware of the fact that I am alive."

"No. You said there was no autopilot. You died." Selina stepped over the splattered meal, tension creeping fast into her shoulders. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"No autopilot?" Bruce blinked at her. "Huh."

She exhaled a short puff of air in disbelief. "You're joking. You don't remember that?"

"Add that to the list of things." Bruce waved an arm over the post it notes, a lazy gesture that made him seem even more vulnerable.

And here she was, in a position to help him, to make up for all she'd done to him.

Selina picked up a few of the notes, scanning Leslie's handwritten reminders which listed everything from where he was, to information about his concussive injuries and stab wound, to recent events, including Batman's sacrificial act. Most importantly was the one informing "Thomas" that his short term memory was impaired.

"So you stayed." The warm regard in his voice pulled her gaze from the notes.

He stared at her, his soft gaze dousing the fire that stirred within her.

Damn him for disarming her again. She couldn't get angry at him, not now, not yet.

"You don't remember much, do you?" The concern for him tasted bitter in her mouth.

He absently toyed with one of the remaining notes. "Guess not. How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. Dr. Thompkins called me. She...she realized I was the one on the Batpod, helping Batman."

Which meant that Leslie knew Bruce's secret and watched over him the past few days, hardly leaving his side, indicating that Leslie knew she couldn't jeopardize his secret.

But Bruce didn't bat an eye at that inference, but remained focused on her.

"You helped me?" he asked in an interested, placid tone, cultured by his years of mask-wearing, she was sure. "That explains this note, at least."

He held it out to her, eyes glazing with fever. She grasped it gently from him, regretting her ridiculous slip of hand earlier. She'd have to request another tray with food, water, and medication right away.

But first…

"'A friend will be here soon to help you remember the past few days,'" he murmured, reading the note aloud.

"Dr. Thompkins knows about you?" she asked for his sake, not hers, since the doctor had already informed her that she did.

"I would think so." He shrugged. "I'm not that surprised she figured it out. I've known her since I was a boy."

She lifted her chin, miffed. "Leslie should've told me outright. She called me yesterday, right before I planned to leave."

Selina pressed her lips tightly together before she'd complete the thought, which would no doubt provoke more questions from Bruce. Questions she wasn't in the mood to answer right now.

She'd been incredibly close to ignoring Leslie's call. She couldn't think beyond that. Or of the what ifs of her situation.

Not with Bruce staring at her like she had come to save him.

"Would you have come, had she told you it was me she needed help with?" he asked.

Selina looked at him with more honesty as she'd looked at anyone in a long time. Even Leslie. "Yes."

Bruce's mouth curved into a slight smile, a brilliance striking against the sunken look of his face and the accumulated injuries of his body. And oh, how it made her want to see him fully golden, none of this shadowing him, bruises and fatigue erased from his features.

But he was oblivious, and made light of the worse case scenario Selina never even thought of had Batman survived.

A smug light shone in his eyes. "That makes me...lucky."

"You've gotten yourself in quite the mess," she said hoarsely.

"I've been in worse messes, believe me."

She fought the urge to glare at him and the way he spoke, as if this—this surviving one of the most horrific weapons known to mankind—bore no significance.

"Not remembering that Batman saved Gotham from a bomb ranks pretty high in my book." It was cruel, but Selina had to know for herself. "But so does flying out into the distance—faking your own death, with a mushroom cloud—after telling us that there was no auto-pilot. Oh, not to mention that there was that certain female board member who betrayed you."

"Right." His brow furrowed. "What?"

How could he not remember?

Her heart twisted with remorse. In the past, she'd never think twice about taking advantage of a situation like this. But now, as he looked at her like she hung the moon and the stars and even the sun she realized that his recovery would be nothing like she could've ever imagined.

The opportunity faded.

Her pounding heart threatened to upend her emotional control, every second she was in his presence compounding the problem.

She couldn't stay here. She needed only a minute. "I'm going to get more food for you, and medicine, okay...Thomas?" Selina laid his notes on his tray. She grabbed a blank note and one and began to write, not meeting his eyes. "Meanwhile, keep reading these. Here's a new one."

She held it out to him. Bruce hesitated, but took the note. He began reading with a lightheartedness that would've reminded her of his playboy persona except she heard something else in his voice. Something else that Selina would stay to hear again.

"'Your new nurse, Cat, abandoned her job as a thief to help you regain your memory. Cooperate, or she may break out her claws.'" He looked up at her, amusement faint in his eyes and the strain of pain, poison, and fatigue a million times more prominent, batting at his almost-inhuman strength.

He didn't look like the Bruce Wayne the world knew. The same chiseled lines of his cheeks and jaw were still there, but were now gaunt. The hair, black and long, thick and yes, a bit greasy, didn't bother her. It served a purpose to protect him and she couldn't argue with that. His goatee reminded her of their first meeting, when she'd been cruel and stupid and selfish, and he'd scared the devil out of her. She'd never admitted that to herself, and now it seemed only right for her to acknowledge that even broken, this man before her had risen beyond it all.

She'd kicked his cane, and he'd followed her, not missing a single, dancing step.

She'd stolen his pearls, and he'd effortlessly reclaimed them, forgoing any charge and charming her right back into his life.

Unnerved by his boyish quips, she'd shamelessly used her feminine wiles to best him again, speeding away, but he'd paid no heed.

She'd handed him over to his likely death, and he'd come searching for her like she'd taken him on a picnic and shared her handmade pie with him, wine included, and not to some brutal betrayal. Broken back, no extra charge.

"Miss Kyle?"

There it was—the confusion. Out of necessity, she broke from her reverie and watched the hero of Gotham furrow his brow once again and succumb to the curse of too many beatings to the skull, too much scarring on the brain, and too much sacrificing of his body.

His breath shortened, warning her of his panic. "Where are we? What—"

She quietly pressed two fingers to his lips, the touch silencing him. "Shhh. Everything is okay, Bruce."

Her words were lost on him. His breath quickened, the sweat along his brow gleamed. Another day and in another world, perhaps it could've been the end of a fair race and a prize worthy of the persevering winner. Today, it could only be a bitter reward for someone who saved a city, for nothing about his hesitation as he took in his surroundings like he hadn't been sitting in this very room for five days was fair. She picked up his notes and pressed them into his hand, the one connected to antibiotics and poison-flushing fluids. His hands clutched hers for a tender, fleeting moment as she transferred the papers.

So this was what it felt like to lose pieces of yourself to someone else, and never want them back.

He watched her, the hope in his eyes raw and real and she could hardly stand to know that the emotion was meant for her. "Read these. You'll catch up in no time. I'll be back to replace your dinner."

Confusion settled on his face even more. "Is that...is that my food on the floor?"

"Just a little spill," she said, not meeting his eyes. "Don't worry about it, handsome. And stay in your bed until I get back."

She left and turned the corner, hovering outside his door so he wouldn't be alone. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted a message to Leslie, telling her what they needed. She left him so he could privately catch up to his reality. She stayed far away because she couldn't hold back the torrent barring its teeth and sinking its fangs. Her tears no longer were soft, tender breaths of her stunted, fragile grief. They were guilt ridden, wicked strokes of a well-sharpened knife, but she refused to let them destroy her.

She'd made a promise to Leslie, and she aimed to keep it.

She couldn't return to Bruce looking ragged and beaten, begging more questions when he had enough of his own already. She braced herself against the wall, sinking down to the the floor and deeper into the pain that her choices had brought both to the Prince of Gotham and to her, the woman who would do absolutely anything to change the past.

oOo

Bruce read the notes over and over, at least a dozen times each. Sometimes silently, other times out loud to his empty room.

The one explaining that his longtime employee has not been notified due to your wishes made his heart ache, but as he pieced together his thoughts, he understood it was for the best. He could not possibly ask Leslie to bring Alfred into this.

Bruce held on to the one Selina wrote like a kid clutching candy. She was here, and he had no idea why. She was here, and he had no idea why it thrilled him so much.

He knew he was causing people trouble, and it humbled him. He was a burden to Leslie, and now Selina, and he didn't want to be. He didn't want to be at the clinic, he didn't want to be a stranger to Alfred, but he was a stranger even to himself and there was no way that he could ever return like this.

He ignored the sound of footsteps entering the room. The person cleaning the mess off the floor. The fresh tray that was placed on his table..

He had to remember. He grabbed one of the newspapers, tracing the headline with his fingertips. He'd saved Gotham, and didn't even know how he'd done any of it.

Selina sighed. "Can you come up for air for a second?"

He grunted a reply. The headline screamed in his head and over Selina as she bothered him again.

"It's medication time. Let's put this away." Selina gripped the edge of the newspaper, the seductive arch of her eyebrows and piercing eyes a temptation he had to deny.

He clutched the paper, unwilling to let go. His answer were here. At least...some of them.

"Bruce, it'll be here on your table," she said softly, "when we work to get your memory back with therapy."

He blinked at her, just now noticing that her eyes were red. Swollen, even. She'd been crying.

He had a sinking feeling he was the cause of it.

Maybe he could ask her enough questions to get her mind off of it, whatever it was. "How did I get my knife wound?"

"Take these two pills and I'll tell you." She tugged at the paper, but he held it fast. "Let go."

"That's not fair."

"I don't play by the rules." She stared at him until he relinquished the paper, then handed him pills and water.

He took the pills with a sigh, and did as he was told. "How?"

She waited until he'd finished the entire glass of water. "It's pretty big. You sure you can handle it? You're looking a bit worn around the edges right now."

"Selina..."

"If it is overwhelming, then I'll know better the next time you ask me and I won't tell you or maybe I'll make up something just for kicks. My teachers enjoyed my creative writing stories back in the day."

He grabbed the notepad and pencil. "Write it down for me? I'll keep it close."

It surprised him when she did as he asked, as if writing notes down for an amnesiac didn't bother her.

But when he read it, the knowledge wasn't enlightening. It simply took him a full minute to recover.

Selina sat quietly, eyes latched onto him like she actually was his nurse.

"I told you this?" The migraine he saw coming a mile away slammed behind his eyes and forehead. Using one hand to knead the pain away, he closed his eyes, nothing coming to mind that the woman who'd used him just as much as he'd used her betrayed him. He hadn't seen that coming at all. But it did explain why he hadn't given Miranda another thought since he'd read the first notes.

He'd given Selina almost all of them, instead.

"In so many words." Selina's hand pressed gently on his arm. "Bruce, your food is here."

"Not hungry."

"Not acceptable."

He ignored her. He had better things to do than to eat. For God's sakes, he'd just learned that Bane had been defeated while he'd been out of it.

But that wasn't right, either.

"Ra's al Ghul's daughter," he muttered.

Maybe if he repeated every note out loud, the process would solidify it in his mind.

"Who is Ra's al Ghul?" Selina asked.

"Was."

"A dead man, then."

Who had stayed alive through some twisted legacy.

"He was my teacher." He paused, bitter gratitude and sadness all rolled into one. "My mentor," he corrected quietly.

"You sure know how to pick them."

He snorted, resorting to squinting through the haze of discomfort. "He picked me...right out of the Bhutanese prison that was my home. I became his greatest student...in martial arts, theatricality, intimidation...so he said. He was the leader of the League of Shadows, a secret society…" he whispered, unable to speak any louder through the pain. "Whose goal was to...purge the world of...corruption."

Selina stared at him, a cool mask of indifference slipping over her face, no doubt to cover her surprise. But it wasn't quick enough.

As he had once before, he could see right through her.

"Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, ex-prisoner?" Her elegant and smooth voice washed over him, a comfort, if briefly. "Prized student of a veritable madman?"

He nodded and opened his mouth to answer her, not realizing Selina had put a spoonful of food onto his tongue until it was too late. He grimaced, but obediently chewed the small portion.

As much as he didn't want to bother with the food, he had to eat something if he was going to get any better.

"And you were a part of this society?"

He swallowed. "To fight...injustice." The migraine-induced, ragged voice had returned but Bruce continued, the hope that knowing a little more about him would influence her to stay, or at least intrigue her enough to come back if—and when—she left. "Until I learned...that they intended...to destroy Gotham...and they almost did with a toxin."

Before he finished Selina deftly placed another bite in his mouth. "That was sneaky," he mumbled through his food.

"Maybe you prefer to feed yourself?" She held out the plate and fork.

To appease her and his growling stomach, which earned him a smug look from Selina, he did feed himself. Half of the food, but then he couldn't manage chewing any longer.

Or aggravating his already nauseated stomach.

"No more," he hoarsely whispered.

He could barely make her form out before him, caught in a heavy, mind-boggling and painful vise.

"Migraine?" Selina asked as she pressed the button to recline his bed.

He affirmed her question with silence, poorly attempting to prepare his mind and body against the inevitable suffering. His eyes closed, and one hand on his head, the other twisting the covers, he could do nothing to prevent his fate.

Darkness pressed all around him, broken only by the rustle of Selina beside him. She fluffed the pillow under his neck, and then after her hand brushed his hair away from his face, covered his hand with hers.

But the comforting warmth of her warm hand soon faded as he succumbed to the pressure in his head.

oOo

Selina immediately took action, as Bruce was oblivious to his need for additional medication, or to any other medical attention he required.

She informed Leslie of Bruce's condition with a text and waited with bated breath. Bruce's agony heightened, reaching an unexpected and unacceptable level.

With each second that went by, Bruce dug his fingers into his skull like he was fighting to stay alive. When shudder volleyed and shattered the stillness of his body, her heart palpitated in fear before she could stop it.

The moan that escaped his mouth shocked her, and the sound of a guttural gagging, from a person helplessly on his back, alerted her. With her quick reflexes, she grabbed the small open trash can beside his bed, nestling it between her thigh and the bed so her hands were free to lift his neck, and then his off his pillow. She'd only managed to move his head an inch before she freed one of her arms to pull the can close.

He gagged again, and she turned his head in the nick of time.

She stood there, appalled that it had come to this for him and sickened by her own ignorance.

Losing track of time was simple—his nausea was endless, and just when she thought the worst had passed, the dry heaves came.

Leslie rushed through the door, her expression never changing as she took in the situation and adjusted Bruce's medication. She came beside Selina, and gently grasped the can from her.

Selina slipped her other hand around Bruce's head, anchoring him further. It wasn't for another full minute before either woman saw any improvement.

A shudder shook Bruce's body a final time. He coughed, oblivious to the hands guiding his head back to the pillow and the cloth wiping the sweat and residue from his face.

Selina set down the cloth, feeling a stress far different from anything she'd ever experienced. She slumped in the chair beside him, finding Bruce's limp hand and curling her own around it.

Leslie went over his vitals quietly, speaking not yet a word to Selina, so focused was she on Bruce. Selina wondered why Leslie, who didn't trust her enough to tell her Bruce was here, suddenly allowed her the courtesy of a private visit, which thereby included the immediate caring for him. She'd have to be pried away from his side with a crowbar, now that she'd seen the horrific result of her actions. Selina stroked Bruce's hand, relieved when the tension fell off his shoulders and his arm fell onto his lap. Bruce sighed, almost instantaneously falling asleep.

"Thank God." Selina expelled a breath. A magnanimous weight lifted as the man could finally slumber without the further struggle of memory loss and physical pain.

"I gave him a sedative. He'll be out for most of the night," Leslie said quietly. "This was a worse episode than the others."

"Has he thrown up like that before?"

"Some, but nothing quite like that." The doctor pursed her lips. "They're worsening, Selina."

"Isn't there anything else you can do for him?"

"I've run the tests that I can. We reduced the swelling the first few days, you can see the bald spot under his wig where we shaved a small area of his hair. He needs a more thorough examination of his brain but I'm afraid…" Leslie's eyes dropped in defeat. "That I can't give him the help he needs here at the clinic, Selina."

"And his memory?"

"I'd like him to see a trauma specialist."

"Who?"

"Preferably one who can come to here for the initial consultation, but I haven't found anyone willing to come to Gotham yet, and I can't risk taking Bruce to the other hospitals and his identity being discovered."

Just what she'd thought. "And if you can't find one who would come here?"

Leslie paused. "He'll have to travel."

Move Bruce? Selina wasn't sure that would be the best thing. What if his conditioned worsened? And, not only that, how would they protect his identity? "That'd be close to impossible."

"It won't be easy, you're right. That he refuses to tell Alfred makes the situation even more precarious. I have no one to take my place at the clinic during an extended absence."

Selina wasn't sure she'd heard her right. "Wayne's butler doesn't even know he's alive?'

"No," Leslie said softly.

"Why won't he let his butler know what happened?"

"My guess is that Bruce doesn't want Alfred to feel guilty for what happened to him. They had words before Bane took control of the city. Alfred left because he didn't want to enable Bruce. He refused to see Bruce's death wish come to fruition—"

Death wish?

Why would Wayne have a death wish?

If he had one, it would explain everything.

Selina asked slowly, "What do you mean?"

"A lot went down eight years ago, and the more recent years in seclusion took its toll on him." Leslie paused, not answering Selina's question outright. "Bruce was determined to fight Bane in the shape he was in. Alfred only saw a pitiful ending to the man he'd loved like a son since birth, and he tried to stop Bruce the only way he could—by leaving."

"Why did you call me?" Selina ventured. "For all you knew, I'd use him and walk away."

"The day I first tried to get a hold of you, he'd awakened for a second time and said your name. He said it with such passion and urgency, I had to try to find you. I don't know how else to explain it."

"So you went on the word of an amnesiac?" she asked sarcastically.

"No, not exactly. Earlier that morning, I figured out that it was you who'd helped him, and...and I took a chance because I think you'll be able to help him piece together what happened and the would maybe prod his memory." Leslie breathed deeply. "I'll be honest, Selina. I didn't trust you at first, even when I talked with you in my office, and I wasn't about to let you see him alone the first time. I watched you from a distance and followed you outside. Call it intuition, if you will, and the way you wore your emotions on your sleeve."

"How do you know I won't use him now?"

"We're having this conversation, aren't we? I think it more likely that either you would have hightailed it out of here the instant you saw him or remain here with him and see the job through. Now that I've watched you helping him, I see my instincts were correct."

"And what are those?" Selina challenged quietly.

"You care for him," Leslie said simply. "If you were going to hurt him, you wouldn't be holding his hand like you are now."

Selina looked down.

Leslie was right, and somehow...she'd forgotten it herself. "It doesn't mean I'm not going to hurt him eventually," she snapped in frustration that she could do nothing to help Bruce but hold his hand.

She wasn't a doctor. Or a girlfriend. Or a good woman on the straight and down.

Leslie's eyes flickered with challenge. "I'll chance that, because I'd do anything for him to regain his memory, Selina. Besides, he agreed for me to bring you here—over Alfred."

"But each time he wakes up and sees me, he's forgotten. He forgets he's hurt, he forgets he is here...he can't even remember—" Selina broke away from Bruce's touch, her hand tremulous and heart fragile.

"What can't he remember?" Leslie asked gently.

Leslie had been nothing short of a mother to Selina when she was a child, abused and practically abandoned. She'd been kind, gracious, giving—but having seen all of those attributes didn't make it any easier for Selina to open up about her feelings. Secreting them away seemed easier—and safer.

"Nothing," she whispered, turning to look out the window.

"Are you going to stay, then?"

"You've already decided for me," she snorted. "Throwing me into all of this like you did."

"If I'd told you everything from the beginning, I couldn't take that chance that it'd scare you away, from giving this a chance."

Selina firmed her jaw. That Leslie could see right through her still, after all these years, dumbfounded her.

Maybe she hadn't succeeded keeping people at arm's length as much as she'd thought.

"You tell me now, Selina," Leslie ordered. "So I can find someone else to replace you. I don't have time to waste—he doesn't. I can't do this by myself, and I know Bruce wouldn't want me to abandon the people of Gotham for his sake, not after all he's done, giving them renewed hope for themselves and for their city."

Leslie was right, but Selina lifted her chin in defiance. How dare anyone try to keep her chained to this damn city. It had destroyed enough of her. "If he wants to work through this alone," she spat. "Then send him to a hospital far away until you can help him."

Leslie's eyes hardened. "Maybe I was wrong about you, but I still think there's more to you—"

"Stop!" she cried, her heart barreling against her chest. "Please, don't say anymore."

"Selina—"

"You don't understand!"

Leslie sucked in breath, hurt rising on her face. "I do understand. You forget I've been around people much like you for over three decades, people who've fought to stay alive, so they put their emotions on a short leash or pretend they don't have any. You're scared. You want to stay, but you care too much for him to get hurt."

Everything she said made sense, but it didn't mean she had to stay and fight for Gotham—or for Bruce—like Leslie did.

She released Bruce's hand and took a step back. "I shouldn't have come."

She shouldn't have tried to act like a compassionate human being in the first place.

"But you did," Leslie said. "And, deep down, you must know why."

Selina shook her head. "He's...he's...too vulnerable for me, too easy for me to hurt."

"His condition has made him vulnerable, yes, but Bruce is strong. Each time that I break it to him that he's stuck here with me, it rolls off his shoulders. He's taking it in stride, Selina."

"I've had to tell him twice."

Leslie looked at her in surprise. "How did he do?"

"Like you said." Selina glanced down at Bruce, his expression the picture of relaxation. She almost couldn't believe that only minutes ago, he'd been sick, yoked with this painful burden he didn't ask for. "He accepts it and does the best he can to fit the broken pieces back together."

"He can do this, Selina," Leslie assured her..

"He can, maybe. But, me? I don't know how to...how I ..."

"How you can continue to explain to the man, who saved all of Gotham with his theatrics, skills, body, and mind, that he forgets every twenty minutes where he is? That he forgets that he came to my clinic, wet as a dog from swimming in the bay to escape the bomb? That he'd been stabbed? That Bane is dead? That he is dead to the world by his own wishes?"

Selina took a hesitant step towards Bruce. If Leslie knew how deeply she'd hurt him, she would probably change her mind in a heartbeat.

Bane's brutal blows on the night she'd betrayed him could have very well set Bruce up for the humbling, current condition he was in.

"No," she said with an edge to her voice. "I don't know how I can watch him realize his mind is in pieces over and over again. I don't know if I can watch him suffer like this."

Broken by this unfathomable pain in his head.

Broken in nearly every way except for his spirit.

And know that it was all her fault.