"Max? Max, my head's on fire."

The distracted teen blinked and focused her attention on Chelsea, who wore an amused look at the fact that she'd been zoning out.

"Sorry, Chels," she apologized, twirling her plastic fork in her rather distasteful spaghetti. She didn't really want to eat it, but then again she'd be hungry later if she didn't. Chelsea shook her head, smiling.

"Alright, who is he?"

Max arched an eyebrow. "He who?"

"Whatever guy you're hung up on. You keep spacing out and smiling every few minutes."

A blush flooded across her face, thankfully hidden by her dark skin. She brushed off the comment with a wave of her hand, reaching for her soda.

"There is no guy. I'm just in a good mood."

Chelsea spared her a disbelieving look. "You don't look that good unless you've gotten laid recently."

Max choked in mid-swallow, causing Chelsea to laugh. She glared and wiped her mouth, staving off embarrassment. "That's not funny."

"Sorry, but it's obvious that you've got it bad for somebody. It's about time, really. When's the last time you went on a date?"

Max winced. "It has been a while. I've been so wrapped up with school and the lab that I don't really have time for boys. Well, boys other than Terry."

Chelsea's interest piqued at her phrasing. She took a sip of her orange juice, trying to keep her voice casual. "That's true. You guys have gotten pretty close over the last year."

The pink-haired girl merely shrugged. "He's got it pretty rough. I don't mind helping out sometimes."

Chelsea's cherry-red lips stretched in a smirk. "Mm-hm."

Max eyed her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing, it's just…well, if you ask me, I think you guys would be cute together."

Max gaped. "Chels, he's my best friend and Dana's ex."

"I know, I'm just saying from a purely aesthetic perspective, you guys are pretty compatible. Don't get all defensive," she teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Max fought to keep her mind from wandering to the night before but couldn't and so once again her face flushed with heat. Before she could respond, a male voice interrupted.

"Defensive about what?" Terry asked, pulling out a chair next to Max's with a playful grin. Max cleared her throat, grabbing the roll off of his plate and biting into it to keep her trap shut while Chelsea covered for them.

"Nothing, just boy talk."

"Boy talk, huh?" Terry mused, stealing the croutons from Max's salad in retaliation.

"Have you found out who the lucky victim is?"

Chelsea pouted. "No. She won't tell me."

Max rolled her eyes. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"Wishful thinking." She elbowed Terry in the side and he grinned wider. For a second, all she could focus on was his lips and how soft they looked from only inches away. And then there was the fact that he was sitting next to her so his left leg brushed against her right one and it was all she could think about for a couple seconds before she realized Chelsea had been saying something and she wasn't paying attention.

"—that brawl on the news. Did you see the footage?"

Max shook her head. "Nah, I was still in the lab. What happened?"

"Some of the news copters got an awesome shot of Batman and the new Catwoman fighting together. It was amazing. You've gotta see it after class," Chelsea insisted, unaware that both of them were squirming in their seats for separate reasons.

"I love this Catwoman. She's so retro, so much like the original. I hope they never find out who she is."

Terry tilted his head slightly. "Why's that?"

"Because it's fun to guess what kind of girl she is. Maybe she's an ex-policewoman. Maybe she's a distant relative of the original. Hell, maybe she's someone in this cafeteria. You never know."

Max found swallowing her bread difficult on account of her throat being dry. Terry shrugged. "I doubt it. She's probably older than us."

She had to say something. She just had to. "What makes you say that?"

"She looks a lot more mature than the other ones. Not old, just…mature."

Chelsea winked at him, her voice teasing. "Sounds like someone's got a bit of a crush."

He cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. "C'mon, Chels, she's a vigilante who dresses up in animal-themed latex and fights crime."

"Doesn't stop Max from crushing on Batman."

For the second time, Max nearly swallowed her food down the wrong pipe. Terry turned very slowly in his seat and stared at her with an interested expression. "Oh really?"

After she'd nearly hacked up a lung, Max glared at Chelsea. "I do not have a crush on Batman."

Terry draped his arm around the back of her chair, leaning in with a secretive smirk that only she caught. "I don't know, Max, you did seem pretty interested in finding out who he is last year."

"It was a phase. I grew out of it."

The smirk widened. "You sure?"

"Positive," she sneered, pronouncing every syllable with a malicious voice. He sat up straight, his voice still laced with humor.

"If you say so, Maxie."


Selina awoke to the soft, furred body of her cat as it jumped onto her lap, alerting her to the fact that she was curled up on her loveseat with a blanket draped over her. She yawned and stretched her back, absently petting the little animal as she opened her eyes and tried to remember what had transpired the night before. She and Bruce had continued talking well into the night and she'd even kissed him. Foolish, perhaps, but she couldn't fight a satisfied smile when she noticed the blanket he had wrapped her in before he left. He'd actually shown real human emotion. Shocking.

"What did I do to deserve such kindness?" she murmured to the cat, chuckling to herself. Then, slowly, her smile faded. The thought had actual merit. It had been so long that Bruce showed her such affection. Could it be that he felt he needed to make up for wronging her? Recently?

Fear gripped her suddenly and she got up, walking into the den. She pressed the button on the flat screen television and it unfolded into her command center. When the computer booted up, she checked the very last log in record. It showed an entry from the night before. She'd been gone all day, meaning only one thing.

Selina slumped into her chair, sliding her hand across her forehead, her voice hushed.

"You son of a bitch."


The bell rang, releasing the Hamilton High school students from classes for the rest of the day and Max couldn't be more relieved to hear it. She had a ton of homework to finish before and after patrol, and none of it looked to be a cakewalk. She stuffed her laptop in her bag and headed out the door only to find Terry waiting for her outside.

"What's up? Need notes?"

He shook his head. "Nope. We're going out."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Out where?"

"To lunch. I feel like we haven't hung out in forever. C'mon, my treat."

Max sighed. "Ter, I've got a lot of work to do—"

"And you need a break from all that or you'll blow a fuse in that big brain of yours," he insisted, poking her in the forehead. She stared up at him, wanting to say no, but she couldn't deny that he had a point. It hadn't been just the two of them in a while like normal kids. The only times she saw him alone were in the wee hours of the morning when he needed a patch up. She glanced at her watch and sighed, nodding.

"Alright, but just an hour."

He held up his hand, placing the other one on his chest. "Cross my heart."

"And hope to die?"

"Not if I can help it."


Selina paced the carpet impatiently as the phone rang and rang, but her pink-haired protégée was not picking up. After a while, she made a disgusted sound and tossed the phone aside angrily.

"Perfect timing, my dear. Don't pick up the phone the day the old man figures out our game."

She ran her fingers through her feathery grey hair, trying to think what to do next. School had let out for Hamilton High about twenty minutes ago, meaning it would be fruitless to show up at the school because Max would be on her way home. Hopefully, she'd see the missed calls. There was nothing they could do about Bruce discovering Max's identity, but Selina needed to warn her of the incoming shitstorm, for lack of a better word. Once the old man told Terry, Max would be in deep, deep trouble. She'd need advice on how to handle the boy.

In the end, she just sighed and sunk down onto the couch."

"Whatever you're doing, girl, I hope it's worth it."


"I can't believe you've never done this before."

"I was a sheltered kid. Sue me."

Terry chuckled and slipped his credit card through the reader. Max tapped her baseball bat on the mat, her dark eyes focusing on the machine about two yards away, preparing to fire the little white spheres.

"They have VR games for this," she commented, tightening her grip and trying not to imagine getting smacked in the forehead with a baseball. Terry shook his head, leaning against the fence behind her and hiding a smile.

"It's not the same. You don't get the rewarding feeling of hitting a homerun."

"Technically, I don't either." Before he could reply, the first ball shot towards her. Max's eyes widened. She hadn't expected it to be that fast, and naturally, ducked. The ball hit the fence behind her and bounced harmlessly to the ground. Terry couldn't hold in a good-natured chuckle at seeing his best friend covering her head like an eight year old. She straightened up and glared at him.

"That's not funny."

"Sorry. They do come out sorta fast. Just concentrate."

She lined herself up with the plate again. The next ball came out and this time she didn't duck. She swung, a bit harder than she intended to, and missed. A frown settled on her pretty features. Surely that had been a fluke. She could reprogram a supercomputer in less than thirty seconds. Hitting a small projectile with a wooden bat couldn't be harder than that, right?

Max swung again, this time aiming a little lower. Again, the ball hit the fence. She started getting irritated. After missing the fifth ball, the girl lowered her bat for a moment and shot an accusing look at the very amused boy behind her.

"Do people really do this for fun?"

Terry's grin widened. "You're just mad because you've finally found something you're not good at."

Max scowled. "Who wouldn't be?"

"Non-perfectionists. Here, hold on." He pressed the Pause button and opened the gate, walking inside. She watched him warily.

"What?"

"I'll give you some pointers."

"How do you know how to play?"

"My Dad. Before Matt was born, we used to go to the batting cages every other weekend," the boy explained, his voice and smile warmer than the sun overhead. Max caught herself thinking the look was "cute" and immediately focused on the bat in her hand and not the one standing next to her.

"Alright, sensei. What am I doing wrong?"

"First off, your feet are too close together. When you swing, it's not just your arms. It's pretty much your whole body."

She nodded and spaced her feet apart. He then walked up behind her and touched her hands, which made her tense automatically. It took her a moment to pay attention to his words and not his warm, muscular chest pressed against her back.

"Your hands need to be a little lower on the bat too. And when you swing…"

He helped her make a smooth swinging motion. "…turn your shoulders and try to keep the bat parallel with the ground."

She cleared her throat, ignoring her rather warm cheeks. "Got it."

Thankfully, Terry's cell phone rang and he moved away for a second, allowing her to breathe again. He glanced at the number and then, to her surprise, put it back in his pocket.

"Who was it?"

"The old man."

Max blinked. "Shouldn't you answer it?"

He shrugged, walking back out of the gate to press the Play button. "It's fine. He'll leave a message."

"What if it's important?"

Terry smiled softly. "I've got five minutes left before I have to take you home. Trust me, it can wait."

Max wanted to say something sarcastic in response, but she couldn't because truthfully, the comment had flattered her beyond belief. She sometimes forgot how sweet Terry could be, without even realizing it. She faced front in order to hide the bashful grin that had overtaken her lips at his admission. He hit the Play button and she took his advice, making sure to ready her stance.

The baseball shot through the air and this time she connected, knocking it into the Homerun ring. A gleeful little squeal escaped her before she could stop herself and she felt twelve years old again, happy to have done something right.

"I got it!"

Terry grinned. "See? It's not as hard as you think."

Max adjusted her stance again, excited as she hit the remaining three baseballs as well, finishing off the round. She took the helmet off and smoothed her hair back down as she walked outside of the cage, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to hide a smile.

"I guess I can kind of see the appeal now."

"Good. There is more to life than software, y'know," he teased and she shoved him lightly, following him out of the compound. She had spent so much time lurking in the darkness, waiting to fight the city's underbelly and rescue the innocent, that she forgot the simple enjoyment between two friends, even over something admittedly immature like visiting a batting cage. She had taught herself to grow up, but truthfully, she had missed part of the ride.

A little while later, the pair rolled up in front of her apartment building on Terry's motorcycle. She removed the helmet and tossed it to him after climbing off, shouldering her bookbag and smiling.

"Thanks, Ter. It was nice catching up."

He smiled and once again, her head got light. "Yeah. I'll see you around, Gibson."

"Later, McGinnis."

He put on the helmet, revved the engine, and sped off down the street. She watched him go, shaking her head, and then the smile faded as she noticed the sunlight retreating from the city line above her. Sundown. She was overdue for patrol. Selina would probably be worried since she'd left her phone upstairs. Max surveyed the empty alley next to her and decided to cut out the middleman.

In a few minutes, she had changed into her suit and cloaked herself in the new darkness, standing atop a nearby clock tower to watch for activity. She'd gotten too wrapped up in patrol to remember that her radio link was still at the apartment, meaning she didn't have any communication with Selina. She figured the former Catwoman had heard about her little adventure with Batman since it had apparently made the news and thus didn't really want to talk to her just yet. She needed an explanation, after all.

A scream broke through the night, catching her attention. She shot a grapple line and followed the sound, but the closer she got, the more she recognized the generic screaming woman. A smile curled on her lips when her boots touched the gravel on the seemingly deserted rooftop. She placed on hand on her hip, speaking into the shadows.

"You really shouldn't use the same trick twice."

A second later, her goggles lit up with red, indicating a presence behind her, but she didn't turn fast enough to avoid a vicious blow to the back of the skull.

Catwoman crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Behind her, a bulky man in black chewed on the end of his cigar, shouldering the baseball bat in his meaty fist.

"Good advice, kitty cat."


And the plot thickens. Don't forget to leave a review, for reviews inspire me to finish the chapters faster. You don't want to be left hanging too long, do you?

Kyoko