A/N: Hey everybody! Long time no see! Sorry I haven't been updating as much, life is weird, but at least I'm back! Anyways, this fic is kind of a step out for me. My original plan was to make it a dream sequence, but this story just kept nagging my mind. And it ended up turning into this. I'm actually really proud of it. Feel free to review/follow/favorite, I always love feedback. I hope you all like it! -K

There's a garden in Gotham, it's hard to find and covered in rust and ivy. It's so old that it's not even on the city map, and that's a good thing. It's probably the only thing left in Gotham that hasn't been tainted by it's hatred and corruption. There's an old, broken swing set, knocked over pots that used to be full of flowers, and I'm fairly certain that there once was a study shack in place of a pile of wood and tin. The trees surround it, blocking most of the sunlight and only letting tiny drops in. It's a magical place, so peaceful and calm.

When I was younger, mother would take me here, back when it actually looked good and clean. Instead of over growing weeds and ivy climbing everything, it was neat and white, and always smelled of pine. The pots were always filled with lavender or posies, sometimes even freesia. Freesias were always my favorite type of flower, they represented innocence. Something I lost.

I decided to take a visit to that old garden, much to Alfred's dismay. We got into the car, I sat up front as usual. Along the drive no words were said, there was no need for them. We both knew where we were going, and we both know the memories that were made there. It was a comfortable silence, with just a dash of apprehension.

He let me out of the gate, and rejected my invitation for him to join me on the trek to the garden. And thus, I started making my way up to the garden, making sure to stay on the overgrown path that had once been clear but was now hard to see. Each step I took reminded me of a memory. Some were good, some weren't, some were fuzzy, and some were clear. But as I took each step up the path, going around thorns and bristles, it filled me with a sense of dread.

Was I hoping for the garden to be fixed? For the pots to be priming with flowers? The swing set white and pristine with the leather seat fully intact? Maybe it was for the shining marble and patterns to be fixed, all leading to the majestic tree that sat in the middle. Whatever it was, it made me want to turn around, to go back, to not accept it's decay and ruin. It seems like seeing the garden in ruins would be like admitting that my mother was gone.

I came to the familiar arch that was the entrance to the garden. As I entered and looked around, I felt my body clench and chills go down my spine.

Everything was fixed.

The pots, no longer turned over or broken, were full of freesias of all colors, all healthy. The swing set was fixed, and looked brand new. The marble tiles and the patterns they made were fixed and shining in the droplets of sun that shown through the branches of the trees. The shack had been rebuilt, with new wood and tin. All of the overgrown ivy was cut, and the grass was tamed. And in the middle of the garden, the tree was still there, standing magnificently, towering over the surrounding trees. Under the tree was a single flower, a freesia, and a note.

As I walked towards the note and picked it up, I noticed that the flower was dead, and crumbled in my hand. I looked at the note, tears forming in my eyes.

"To the kid,

The butler told me a story about this old garden and how much you loved it. People owe me some favors, and I made sure to use them.

- Cat

P.S.

Freesias are pretty cool."

I stared at the note, not wanting to let the tears fall but not wanting to keep them in either.

"You like it?" I looked up into the branches of the tree, and sure enough, it was Selina. Pure, wonderful, beautiful Selina.

"Y-... Yes I do, very much so"

She smiled at me, and everything made sense.

It was just that, the way she smiled at me. Everything that I had felt, my innocence that was destroyed. It didn't matter because she was there. It didn't matter because she smiled at me, that beautiful, mischievous smile of hers. Everything was simple at that point. A flower was just a flower, dead or alive. But it takes a certain person to revive the flower into something even stronger than before.

And that person was Selina Kyle.