AN: I've been asked several times not to abandon my story and to give an ending. I've addressed this on AOO (because adding notes is easier there hee hee :'D) but I'll say the same thing here, DON'T WORRY! There's no way I'm abandoning this and I've had the ending worked out in my brain for months. If I didn't get the whole story out and completed, it would bounce around in my head forever and drive me crazy. I'm crazy anyways, so imagine what that would look like. Yikes. Fear not, fellow BatCat shippers, Simply Complex WILL get completed unless a bus comes flying through my house and runs me down. That's the only thing that could stop my quest. :) And while I'm at it, thank you for the lovely comments and favorites/follows. I see each and every one and they definitely help keep me going!

10.

Bruce knew something was wrong with Selina. The scars Catwoman left on him had freaked Selina out and no matter how nice the rest of that day had been he knew not hearing from her for a week probably had to do with that. She was not the type of woman to get shaky hands at the sight of a little scar tissue—okay, maybe a lot of scar tissue, but still—it wasn't like he was missing a chunk out of his chest, it shouldn't have rattled her as badly as it did. But, alas, he let her be and allowed her whatever space she needed. A part of him wished she didn't feel she needed that space at all.

Currently, he'd just finished shaving and showering when Alfred's voice cut through the door, "Sir, Ms. Kyle is here to see you." Bruce thanked him and quickly pulled on a shirt and jeans before he strolled out. The towel was still gripped in his hands when he found her by the front door, ruffling water out of his hair.

"Hey, I—" Bruce's voice trailed off when he peeked up from under the towel and saw the look on her face. "Selina, what's wrong?" He immediately slung his towel around his neck and took a step closer to her. Selina's eyes roved over him, before she almost literally winced away, choosing instead to let her gaze drop. Something bad was coming, he could feel it.

"I can't stay long," Her voice was unstable, quieted. That was not like Selina, "But I—I just couldn't put it off any more." Bruce's mind took a time-out. Was she breaking up with him? Why? What had changed from Friday night to Saturday morning? Clearing his throat and crossing his arms, he gave a nod and she continued, "I can't be with you anymore, Bruce." Tears penetrated her speech. Even knowing it was coming, this was like a gut punch from a fully venom charged Bane.

There was a long pause as he watched her, his inner detective working rapidly to figure out what was happening. Her body language was all wrong. Selina didn't seem like a woman who would have trouble with break-ups either, he knew her well enough—and saw enough of her sass—to know that if he had actively done something that pushed her over the edge, she'd be more likely to tell him off with a multitude of expletives and slam the door in his face than come cowering to him with her tail tucked between her legs and sheepishly whimper that she couldn't be with him anymore. Bruce fended off the stinging in his chest because he knew without question she had a problem and didn't want to tell him.

"Why?" He finally asked on a breath.

"I just can't."

"That's not a reason."

"Why do I need a reason?" She was sounding more and more broken by the second and she kept her head down.

"I think after all this time, and given how we spent our last day together, I deserve something more than 'I just can't.'"

"Please don't throw that in my face."

"Then spit out more than this garbage you're trying to feed me, Selina."

She stayed silent.

"Selina." Some frustration overflowed into his tone, making the syllables sharp and stern.

Her shoulders heaved a bit as she fought back a sob. "I-I can't be with…" She hesitated, reluctant to say it, "With a man stuck living in the past, under the shadow of his parents' death. Someone with… no future."

Okay, that one hurt. She wanted it to hurt, to push him away and make sure he didn't come back. He could see it as she spun those acidic words, she was trying to burn him. Bruce swallowed against her excuse and silence blossomed for a long while, neither one moving, before he spoke softly to her, "Selina, look at me." She shook her head. Whether she didn't want to see how much she'd hurt him or want him to see what was happening to her was unclear, but he didn't care much. "Please." With a sigh, she brought her gaze up to his, tears and shame burning in her jade eyes.

This was not the image of a woman breaking up with him, it was the image of a woman masochistically breaking her own heart into pieces.

"Selina, if this is really what you want, if that's really how you feel," Her eyes skittered away for a moment and he waited until they came back before continuing, "I won't fight. I will let you walk away right now and I won't come after you. You won't so much as see me again." Her teeth grabbed her lip, not out of deep thought, but more like to keep from screaming. He wanted so badly to wipe away her tears and tell her everything was okay, that there was nothing on earth that could stop him from loving—

Selina spun around and gripped the door handle. "I'm so sorry, Bruce." She whimpered, defeated. And then she was gone.

Bruce stood, staring absently at the space she had just occupied. What happened? This woman had almost flat out said she loved him and now she was gone? His mind filtered back through all the information he possessed, trying to find a clue of some sort as to the real reason why Selina suddenly wanted to cut him out of her life.

She didn't. Perhaps that was what he was having trouble swallowing. She didn't want to separate, she didn't want to leave, but she felt she needed to. All he could think was it had to do with her reaction to his scars. That was year zero on this timetable. Finally turning, Bruce ran his fingers through his hair as pain settled in. Just because he knew there was more than meets the eye didn't mean Selina ripping herself out of her special little place in his heart wasn't devastating. Like any wound it would just need some time to heal, he told himself, but that didn't seem to stop the agony from bleeding out either. How he wanted to string that woman upside-down and interrogate her until he got some real answers.

The thug Batman currently had strung upside-down from atop a large building squealed and squirmed, hysterical and babbling. The icy wind stinging his face probably didn't help comfort him either. "What do you want from me!? I told you everything I know!" He sobbed. Batman rolled his eyes, "See, when you lie to me it makes me want to drop you and go home." The man screeched again, begging and pleading with him. It had been a couple weeks since the break up, and Batman was taking it out on the crime underworld, particularly focusing his frustrations into finding Joker.

"L-look man, you gotta level with me! I don't know that much about Joker, he's been keepin' things real quiet!" The grunt wept.

Batman didn't have to do a darn thing for this man much less take pity on him. "Now you level with me," He growled, his tone alone enough to make his captive look like he'd wet himself, "I'm in a very, very bad mood and I've got no time for your nonsense." The grunt blubbered and Batman grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him eye to eye, "Talk!"

The man's eyes widened and he seemed to have trouble getting the words out. Then he replied, "I don't know much about Joker, honest! I heard his hideout was in some old condemned building and I know he recently heisted a ton of cash. That's it!" Batman turned to leave him strung up when he continued, "But I got somethin' on Catwoman that might be useful!"

Batman paused, thinking it over before slowly looking back to him. "Why do you think that would interest me?"

The grunt swallowed roughly. "I know as much as everyone else she did somethin' that got under your skin," Batman raised his fist to strike him—again—and he squealed, "But that's not why!" Batman gave another sharp yank to his collar, indicating he was done playing around. "I-I heard her buyin' somethin' from one of my contacts! She seemed jumpy and agitated, was lookin' over her shoulder a lot," No doubt looking out for me, Bruce thought as the man continued, "She wanted a pair of infrared goggles my buddy had, tough to get 'em anywhere else but he jacks up the price like nobody's business, I tell ya—" Batman snarled, and the man took another gulp, "A-anyways, I overheard 'em talkin', he was asking her why she needed 'em, she got defensive, yadda yadda, and then she finally mentioned she might be trying to steal some major cash from a clown."

Batman's eyes widened. "Steal from Joker? That's suicide." He shook his head as he spoke. The man shrugged as best he could, "I know that, but your kitty friend doesn't seem to—" He took a jab to the gut, just enough force to tell him not to get cute with The Dark Knight again, and he wheezed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Look, that's what I know and what I've been hearin'! All of it!"

Batman growled, "Why should I believe you when you haven't been honest with me yet?"

With a sniffle, his prisoner replied, "Why would I lie about Catwoman? Go ask my buddy, he works fifth and Soloman all the time! He's the one savin' 'em for her until she's got the money for 'em, he'll tell ya!"

Whipping around Batman started off. The grunt became hysterical again and Batman threw him a glance, "You'll come down when I can collaborate this with your friend." That earned more blubbering and he left… Of course informing the police shortly after where the hooligan was hanging so he wasn't actually going to be stranded in freezing weather. Bruce believed him. Joker probably was holed up in a condemned building, and even though there were plenty of them in Gotham, it gave him somewhere to start. But this Catwoman business had him concerned. He wanted to catch her bad, see her brought to justice, but no one deserved Joker's brand of "justice." And no matter how good she was, Joker would rain down wrath upon her if she stole from him.

Bruce had gotten home late—around two in the middle of the night—and taken his time changing as he watched his computer running different programs at once. Searching for different connections in the stolen money, who—if anyone—was caught, and condemned buildings that fit what Joker would look for in a hideout.

With a yawn, he ran a hand over his face. Selina's absence was giving him problems sleeping. His mind was constantly running, never quieting and calming enough for him to get some much needed R.E.M. The hole she'd left got more gaping by the day, clouded his thoughts all the time. With a groan, Bruce knew to catch Joker he needed sleep. He decided he should at least try, unlike most nights where he drowned it all away working in the Batcave. Perhaps fatigue would overcome him at last once he met his pillow.

He left and exited through the study, feeling a chill melting out of his muscles as he padded to his room which… A frozen breeze was sweeping out of. Arching an eyebrow, he held enough presence of mind to go into silent mode. Slipping into the room and sticking to the shadows, Bruce observed the balcony door open and another person present. The reflecting moonlight off the snow revealed a feminine form beside his bed with her back to him. Bruce could have swore it was Selina for a moment, the familiar curve of her hips and her long legs unmistakable to him, but once she stood a bit more upright, ears on top of her head became visible.

What was Catwoman doing back in his house? He was about to find out. Bruce was too emotionally exhausted at this point to feel the rage he'd expect, all he wanted right now was to confront her.

He moved to the open balcony door, watching her carefully the whole time. She looked like she was about to turn, but she paused and lightly dragged her gloved fingers over the comforter of his bed, a sigh escaping her that would have been inaudible if everything hadn't been dead silent. She looked like she was… Reminiscing. Odd. Bruce rather loudly shut the glass door, and Catwoman nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around to face him. "Back for something else?" He asked, aggravation in his tone. She didn't say anything, didn't move. He took a step towards her, cautiously closing some of the already short distance between them, causing Catwoman to back up, her legs bumping into his nightstand.

"Don't back a cat into a corner." She huffed.

"Well stop breaking into my house."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurting me doesn't seem like something that bothers you, actually." His voice didn't have an abundance of malice in it, yet her face dropped like he'd just said the most vile, hurtful thing in the world. He meant her whip, physically harming him, but her reaction made him think she took it differently. Even more odd. Her stance was still aggressive and she'd lash out if he got closer, but from what he could see of her eyes, Catwoman looked like she was more scared of him than he was of her.

Then he got a glimpse of what she'd left on his nightstand, the iridescent gleam putting a chokehold on his attention.

Bruce leaned and peered around her, eyes widening when he saw his mother's pearls sitting there, a small note beside them. He stepped forward to get a better look and Catwoman darted towards the door, attempting to glide by him and escape. His hand was too fast though, and he caught her wrist without breaking concentration. She yanked her arm, trying to break free as he picked up the note and read over the carefully written cursive,

I didn't know what I took from you.

Sorry,

Cat

And a small paw print was scribbled beside her "name." Bruce stared at the card for what must have felt like forever to Catwoman before he reached down and fingered through the jewelry, making sure it hadn't been tampered with. Perfect condition. "What is this?" Bruce's voice was a little deeper and almost breathless. Catwoman's thrashing calmed a bit, only a small tug once in a while coming from her, but she didn't answer. He turned to her. "Why would you do this?" She looked away, a melancholy clinging to her being.

"It's all right there," In the note he presumed she meant, "Now let me go." She replied in a hushed although irritated tone. He didn't. Stepping a little closer and not allowing her to keep her preferred distance, Bruce continued, "Why didn't you just sell them? How did you find out what they are? And more importantly why do you care?" Her yanking and writhing resumed as she tried desperately to get away, desperately to gain some much needed space from him, desperately to hide the blush of embarrassment staining her face so glaringly bright that it peeked out from her mask. His grasp wouldn't break, and he was prepared to pin her down and sit on her to get an answer.

Catwoman whined and weakly lashed out, attempting to kick his leg out from under him, but he didn't budge. "I just…" Her pitch went up an octave, sounding on the brink of tears, "I-I found out, okay?! It doesn't matter! I just didn't want them anymore!" She shook her head and twisted her hand around to try and dislodge him. There was frustration and regret laced with her, tainting her words and wracking her body. Since when did Catwoman have a conscience? Lately it seemed Bruce entered The Twilight Zone. Selina tore his heart apart without—apparent—cause and now Catwoman was bringing something back which took the edge off that pain…

Selina…

Eyes sharp on Catwoman, he focused more on her outline than her appearance. He knew her frame, he'd seen it—felt it—before. Her scent was familiar and pleasant. She was trying to sound different, but her shuddered breaths couldn't be concealed and he knew them, those soft noises had echoed in his ears. Her being was toiling up memories, but it was difficult to place which set of memories.

His thumb subconsciously slid back and forth on her wrist as he studied her. She finally looked over her shoulder at him, confused by his small act of tenderness and silently pleading. "Thank you." Bruce's voice was gentle. Catwoman blinked in shock when his grip eased and he retracted his hand, her feet stumbling slightly from the sudden lack of opposing force holding her back. Regaining her composure, she threw another cautious glance at him, her eyes lingering a little longer than she realized before she tore out and threw open the door, dashing across the balcony and leaping off. She probably caught a tree branch with her whip.

Shutting the door, Bruce looked back at the items on his nightstand. He would analyze her handwriting, check for fingerprints and any other traces of her identity, but that was later. For now, it was just a comfort to have his mother's pearls back. That comfort didn't erase his suspicions, however. There was a possibility—a good one, in honesty—that he simply projected Selina on Catwoman because they happened to share some physical attributes. Most physical attributes. All physical attributes. It didn't feel like that was the case, but it never did within one's own mind. None the less. Something was amiss around him and he was beginning to chew on the facts, connecting dots and filling in blanks. Bruce was going to decipher these strange occurrences if it killed him.

He'd missed her by inches. Several jewelry stores and homes had been looted recently, and only Catwoman could have been responsible—what other master burglar left claw marks? Given what information Batman had, she was likely building up enough items to purchase necessary gear for her heist of Joker's ill-gotten gains. Tonight, she'd been right under his nose, he'd seen her dashing away from the scene of a cleaned out jewelry shop. By the time he grappled up to the rooftops, she'd vanished. He had scoured for her as quickly as he could, but that slippery woman was like a ghost once more. It was only then he realized how much she allowed him to find her previously.

A gleam caught his eye and he turned to see the Bat Signal blazing on the ever present clouds. Jim had something. Shaking off his defeat in Catwoman's wake, he quickly made his way to Police Headquarters.

The Dark Knight perched, observing a rooftop below the one he was currently on. The Bat Signal shined beside Commissioner Gordon, who was cupping and blowing into his hands to heat them against such frigid surroundings. Batman rolled his shoulders before he leapt down and landed gracefully beside his old friend.

Jim glanced sideways at him. "Took you long enough." He teased.

"Better late than never." Batman replied with a little smirk.

Gordon chuckled and then pulled a picture out of his jacket, "Check out what this street camera caught." He handed it over and watched as The Bat looked it over. Within that image was a truck with two large drums in the flatbed and a grunt looking back out the window. He was a known henchman of Joker's. Batman's humor dried up, his smirk dissolving into a grimace. "Before you ask, no, we don't know what's in the barrels. My personal guess is acid or something, but God only knows what that much of anything could be for."

"Knowing Joker, it's definitely not small scale. When was this taken?"

"'Bout one o'clock this afternoon. But get this, we've got footage on nearby streets from other dates of the same guys, different cars. Every time they're hauling containers like those. There's an "outage" of security cameras for ten blocks in this area, so we can't follow where they go but…"

Batman's eyes flashed with knowledge of his next move. "This narrows down the search radius. I can see if they pass by again, though I think I'm going to end up having to do some digging." He stated, "We'll have him before he can pull anything off."

The two men nodded and Batman handed the picture back before spinning toward the other end of the building. "Be careful, there could be a lot of traps and who knows, he might be expecting you." Jim cautioned, earning a pause in Batman's step. Bruce smiled to himself, Commissioner Gordon's concern was warming against the cold. He gave a lazy salute back to Jim and then grappled off to comb through the streets of Gotham. It was crunch time and these sloppy goons were going to be his ticket to putting Joker back where he belonged. In Arkham.

Bruce had spent most of the next night hunting to see if those henchmen would slip up and make themselves seen. When they didn't, he decided to take a different approach. Currently, he'd been working on cross-referencing condemned buildings with the ten block radius of dead cameras and was quickly zeroing in on where their possible hideout was.

Alfred watched from behind him, observing as buildings were ruled out. Bruce knew having another set of eyes was helpful, he encouraged Alfred to assist in things like this as much as possible, and it paid off. "One moment." Alfred chimed and Bruce backtracked to the previous display. "I recall that place there, sir." He stated, gesturing to the wireframe model of a building on the screen, "If memory serves, it was constructed without an outside entrance. They were afraid the offices would be ransacked in such a dreadful neighborhood, so the only way in was through the underground parking garage." Bruce's eyes narrowed and with a few clicks, he brought up the blueprint.

Sure enough, there was only an entrance through the parking level, which had been closed off ages ago when a better location opened up and the offices moved. This building had been condemned as it wore away and no longer kept up to code, but was otherwise quite sturdy in structure. Perhaps it was time to see if that secret entrance had stayed secret.

Rising to his feet and pulling on his cowl, Bruce smiled at Alfred. "You're a genius." He stated.

"That's a poorly kept secret, Master Bruce." Alfred mused, earning a chuckle. "Do be careful, sir."

"Always." Bruce replied as he started to the Batmobile.

He carefully observed the closed office building, every window dark and not a sound to be heard. Batman had checked that parking entrance and while it was still gated shut, it didn't take a master's degree to see that the lock keeping it that way was new. It was a fresh, tough model and not a speck of rust or dirt was present. Although it had been unlocked recently and he knew that because while it was latched, it wasn't doing its purpose of attaching gate to bearings, merely giving the illusion this place was off-limits. The lock had been left open on purpose.

His first instinct was Catwoman, but perhaps those goons were out on a chemical run right then and it was left open for them. If one group was lazy enough to blatantly show their faces, it didn't go beyond reason that their comrades were equally as stupid.

So now, Batman watched from a distance, keeping a close eye on the street as well as the windows for any sign of—

Was that a gunshot?

Breath hitching, heart thrumming in his ears, eyes widening, Bruce tensed. He thought, in a blink, he'd seen a window light up but he'd been looking down for cars. That distant sound could have been a car backfire, although by now he was pretty tuned in with gunshots. While unsure, now he had reason to believe there were inhabitants here and if so, they were hostile. Judging which window it had been—there were three candidates—Batman fired his grapple and took a guess, aiming for the middle one.

When he crashed through, he found himself in the middle of ten goons and Joker himself, who's composed—albeit psychotic—demeanor wasn't deterred in the least. And lying cuffed on the floor, eyes rolled back in her head, twitching and shot, was Catwoman.

"Batsy! I've been wondering what's taken you so long!" Joker gleefully cheered through crazed laughter as his thugs rushed and began subsequently getting pummeled with no amount of numbers giving them an advantage. Even when one would get lucky and land a blow, Batman took it like it was a mild slap. He got glimpses of Catwoman—she'd been shot in the shoulder and while she was bleeding fairly badly, something else was drastically wrong as her body seemed to have waves of convulsions wash over her—before cracking several ribs on one man and blowing out the knee of another.

When Joker fired shots into their chaotic brawl, Batman was quick to dodge and dove over to a table that he flipped over and used as a shield. "What's wrong with her, Joker!?" He shouted over the shots, dodging a few bullets that broke through. Insane giggling poured from his foe in answer. As soon as Batman heard a click rather than a bang he sprang over and charged after Joker, who had taken off down the hallway.

Batman rushed to catch him, shot his grapple and caught the handle of the next door before it could be opened and nearly ran Joker clean over with how fast his massive hand clamped onto that skinny neck and slammed him into the adjacent wall. Joker grunted for a moment, wheezed, then hysterical laughter fought against Batman's powerful grip. "Y-you want to know what's wro-ong with your pussycat?" He rasped. All Batman gave him was silence.

Joker giggled more, knowingly, like he could see into Batman's very soul and dissect what he was feeling. Like one look into his eyes could give him the whole story of Selina, of his mother's missing items, of Catwoman's strange act—no. It wasn't even that he knew the situation, it was as if he knew more than Bruce did, kept those out of reach answers to himself but dangled them in front of Batman just because he could.

And it was infuriating.

Batman pulled him off the wall a bit, only to roughly bash him back into it and keep him pinned there. "I don't ask twice, Joker." He hissed. It seemed pain only fueled that mad clown on.

"Bats Bats Bats, you should know by now I don't take kindly to others stealing from me. Remember that poor chap I had to skin—" He was slammed again, there was no time to drag this out, but oh did he relish making Batman squirm like a bug on a pin. "Hmmm, now what was it I did to your kitty? What was it, what was it?" The way Batman's breathing became harder, the way his face contorted with fury made Joker throw his head back into the wall and release a choked howl of joy.

"Batsy, I'm gonna tell ya! I shot her! I shot her with a toxin I've been working on! Made her my guinea pig! Of course you have to spoil my fun—I wanted to pump gallons of that stuff into the police station and the mayor's office and EVERYWHERE!" His uproarious hysterics would ring in Bruce's ears for weeks, "But," Joker soon crooned as Batman dragged him back to the occupied office, "Just knowing I took her is plenty for now." He tilted his head sweetly at Batman, shortly before a massive fist drove into his cheek, cracking a few yellowing teeth and knocked him out cold.

Batman quickly tied Joker's feet up and cuffed him because other options were few and far between. Moving to the shot-to-bits table, he plucked some mashed, stray remains of a toxic bullet and popped them in his belt. He then picked Catwoman's cuffs lock in seconds, even against her convulsing. "Hang on." He attempted to soothe, although he wasn't even positive she was conscious. Tapping into his connection with home, Bruce ordered Alfred to send the location to the police and prepare for a poisoned gunshot victim. Alfred paused at that one, but accepted his commands none the less. Finally, Batman pressed a button on his wrist panel, calling for the Batmobile.

Quickly, he scooped up Catwoman and grappled out of the window, lowering down just in time to find said Batmobile race around the corner and stop beside them. Tucking her in his passenger seat, Batman swung around, throwing himself into his own side with his foot stamping on the gas before he was completely seated or the roof was fully shut. A call came through the dash and Alfred's face popped up on his screen. "The police are on their way. What toxin am I prepping for, sir?" He inquired, his face dropping when all Bruce could do was roughly swallow. "Well, what shall I do?" The truth was Bruce didn't know how to answer that. It was horrifying to feel so helpless. He needed to clear his mind, he needed to—

"Bru-u-uce…" The sound was almost inaudible, shuddered on a half dead breath, but he heard it. His head swiveled around to Catwoman, shock and curiosity pulsing through his veins.

The almost lifeless woman had her unfocused gaze on him. Her eyelids were fluttering and her body occasionally bucked as if trying to thrust Joker's poison from itself, then her eyes rolled back and she was out. His hand felt clammy beneath his glove as he reached over and slowly pulled back her mask, her hair falling out from its confines and sticking to sweat that had begun to coat her pale skin. Her face completely bared to him was sobering, answering all of his questions only to bring up so many more. Bruce wasn't exactly sure how to feel, so he chose not to as he looked back to his butler.

"Alfred, Catwoman is Selina."