A/N: FUNNY STORY! I was asked by Flameraven on here why Dick hasn't been involved. Well, for about a month and a half now, I've been thinking of how to work Dick in here and I've been planning out where he's gonna come in. LITERALLY I WAS JUST THINKING THAT, SWEETIE! LOL XD I love you guys. Thanks so much for every comment, fave and follow! I see them all!
12.
Batman wanted to be anywhere but home. The thought of entering the mansion was perpetually making him nauseous and with a lunatic loose in Gotham—one who had beaten, shot and poisoned Selina—he was pouring his energy into finding him. Wasting his energy in finding him. Throwing away valuable time using finding him as an excuse to hide.
It was unbearable on his psyche. Bruce couldn't live knowing what had happened to Selina, that night rerunning through his eyes every time he blinked, seeing her face over and over staring back at him, but he couldn't begin to face even being in shared space with her. Not because he didn't want to be with her…
It hurt too much.
Flat out, it hurt too much. It hurt to look at that woman and think of how much anger he'd been harboring and every ounce of it was unknowingly directed at her. It hurt to look at her and wonder why she hadn't done or said something. It hurt to think some if not all of their time together was a lie. And he just couldn't face that. Unlike any other relationship Bruce possessed, he would have rather been stuck in this limbo with Selina than discover what reality had been taking place. So he over occupied himself intentionally, focusing on finding the escaped clown, funneled his emotions into labor, never said more than two words to her since she'd gotten there a week and a half earlier, heard no evil and saw no evil.
But for tonight at least, there was no where left to run, so he summoned the Batmobile—with a freshly cleaned interior, free of any gigantic blood stains, poison or traces of her near death—and sped off.
Although he knew he shouldn't put off the talk that needed to be had, strangely his schedule didn't open up one little bit. Bruce was aware that Alfred had Selina up and walking, keeping her active but not pushing her too far. And he was aware of that when he got home early the following night, sitting at his computer working and the elevator behind him opened. He assumed it was his butler, but the sound of shoes was absent and there wasn't a peep made from his visitor for a long while. Had he not heard the door open he wouldn't have known another person was present. But there was only one other person this could be.
"Bruce?" Came her soft voice at last. Her tone was gentle, apprehensive, and completely knotted his stomach. His fingers continued on the keys as he gave a hum back to her. Selina was quiet again, he wasn't sure if she was waiting for him to face her or if she just couldn't get the words out, but then she spoke up, "Do you hate me?"
She had clarity this time when she asked. It didn't change his response, because it had been true when he said it last time. "I already answered that. I don't hate you, Selina." Bruce replied, his fingers not missing a beat.
"Are you avoiding me?" Selina's next question rang out.
The tik-a-tak of keys continued. "I have not avoided you." Never once did he duck around a corner to get away from her or have Alfred say "I didn't see him" when they'd spoken face to face. He just over committed himself to dodge this conversation, but he never actively avoided her… That would do for his conscience.
She paused, "…How come you haven't come up—"
"I've been desperately trying to find the maniac who shot you." Bruce ended that question before it could gather legs under itself. And that was most definitely true.
"You've been too busy to come say hi?" Selina sounded disheartened, like she wanted to believe him but couldn't make herself.
His hands moved on their own as Bruce stared blankly and glazed over at what he was doing. "Yes." He replied, tone a little deeper, a little more hatred for himself seeping to the surface.
Her breath shuddered slightly—something else was coming. Selina's voice lost a bit of its courage, but it was also slightly closer as she moved halfway up the stairs that lead to his chair, "But you don't hate me?" He didn't even acknowledge that, he wasn't about to answer it three times. Her anxiety was palpable when she summoned up her last question, "Do you love me, Bruce?"
Bruce's fingers locked up and froze, the back of his mind silently praying a lightning bolt would strike him dead right there. This was the can of worms he tried to keep at the back of his emotional pantry, the one he dreaded and knew was going to pop open if he spoke to her.
"Oh." She breathed, convinced his lack of response was an answer of "No".
Turning his chair about, he saw Selina stepping back down to the ground, a noose of defeat hanging on her. Sucking in a breath, Bruce forced himself to speak, because that was one falsity he couldn't have her believing—no matter how much the truth was about to hurt her—"It doesn't matter if I do." He watched as she stopped and slowly spun on her heel back to him.
"What did you say?"
"It doesn't matter." Her eyes narrowed on him and she stepped back to the edge of the stairs as he continued, "We can't be together. My feelings towards you are irrelevant, because it isn't an option anymore."
"When did it stop being an option?" She asked carefully, and he was silent. "When I broke up with you? After?"
"Maybe it never was an option." He said softly.
A flush was slowly creeping up her neck, Bruce half thought steam was going to shoot out of her ears. He wouldn't have pegged anger to be her reaction, but the look on her face said that's exactly what it was. "Just what is that supposed to mean?" Selina huffed as she tried to process his words.
"It means… Well…" Trying, grasping for a way to put it that didn't sound like what it was doomed to sound like anyways, "Selina, I'm Batman, and you're—"
"A filthy criminal?" It was worse than he thought. And escalating.
"I'm supposed to stop you. I have to stop you. I've already bent my rules for you, but I can't break them. No matter how much it hurts."
If the way her good hand balled was any indication, it wanted to bury itself in his jaw. "So you don't love me because I'm a thief?" She ground out.
Bruce bumped his head back against his chair, "No, that's not at all what I said." He groaned back.
"Oh, I think that's what you meant. We could never make it work because of me. Isn't that what you're saying? Because you can't live knowing I'm not perfect enough for a flawless little angel like yourself?" Her words were mocking.
"Being perfect is far from not stealing everything in a ten mile radius." The wrath he'd kept on a backburner, waiting for Catwoman, was currently turned up and rapidly boiling to the point of overflow.
"But I have to be picture perfection to be with Gotham's golden child, right? Lest I taint your pure image?"
"You're twisting my words."
"No, you just don't want to say it."
"Don't tell me what I'm trying to say." It came out as a growl.
Selina shook her head. "I don't need you sitting up there on your throne judging me, Bruce! You've had everything handed to you, what could you know about what I've had to go through? What could you know about why I steal? What could you possibly know about me? The real me, not the idealization you want me to be. What could you know?" She took a challenging step up and met his icy gaze with pure defiance. Bruce's patience had all but eroded away and the only thing keeping him from opening the dams of frustration was his reluctance to hurt her—his love for her. But as she held her arm out, daring him to answer her, even that reason was crippling under the weight of anger. "Well, Mr. Know-It-All? You're so quick to tell me what I'm thinking and feeling when you're behind a mask, where are you now? Where are you to tell me everything you know? Huh? Tell me. Tell me how omniscient you are." He bit down on his tongue as she prodded, "Tell me!"
"I know that you chose to keep stealing." His tolerance had been burned at both ends and he lifted himself to his feet, watching her jaw clench against his words, "I know you had a way out, you could have told me, but you didn't. I'm pretty sure you were only after my possessions but hey, maybe you did want to jump in my pants too, and I'd guess you only stuck around so it wouldn't be obvious. I know you're the one who pulled me into a relationship to spit in my face. I know you're the best actress I've ever seen, who else could string someone along for almost half a year? I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you don't steal because "boo hoo I have to, I'm such a victim." Be honest Selina. It's like a drug to you, you love it." He paused, his breathing jagged as he drove home one last blow to her emotional core, "And I know all of the hints and dancing around saying you loved me was a load of garbage. Clearly you didn't."
The silence was deafening as their gazes clashed. Selina stepped back from him, a sort of betrayal blazing in her eyes—she hadn't expected him to have anything to say, much less to blow a gasket. For a long time they stayed like that, their postures tense, aggression hanging between them almost as heavy as their exchange. And then Selina spoke, "Yes, I chose life as Catwoman. I chose it over a life with you. But you're wrong on why." She shook her head and hung it, her eyes squeezing shut against angry tears that built up—but she wasn't about to let him see them.
When she looked back up, she found Bruce with his arms crossed, an expectant shrug tugging his shoulders to coax elaboration out of her. "What if I had told you who I was? What I did? You were ready to break every bone in my body, so what if I had mentioned, "oh by the way honey, I stole your mom's jewelry and clawed you apart and threatened to skin your neck. Ha ha, sorry 'bout that." You think that would've been better? How do you think you would have reacted? Because I sure didn't imagine it as some brush off the shoulder deal, I took it seriously." His gaze softened slightly. Perhaps there was a point to be made there. It didn't change anything else.
Right?
Selina took in an unsteady breath, "But I wasn't afraid of what you'd do to me or that you'd turn me in. Not at all. I was afraid you would never forgive me. Even if we could have moved on from this you'd always look at me different. I knew you'd never trust me again." Her voice cracked slightly and so did his resolve. "So I left you. I tried to spare you from… Well, from this. There was no way to keep my life and save you from devastation, but either way I was going to get clobbered. At least if I just cut the ties I could intercept the blow meant for you too… That's why I left."
Eyes skittering away, wanting to look at anything but her, Bruce took in a deep breath. "Don't you dare stand there and tell me I love anything more than I love you. You have no right." It was almost under her breath, but… Did she just say she loved him? That should have been the greatest statement he could hear, yet it stung like salt in a wound, and by the time his gaze flicked back to her, Selina was already in the elevator and the doors swept shut behind her.
Bruce slid his hand down his face and slumped back into his chair. When was the last time anyone, much less a woman, had him so twisted up inside? His fingers dug into his hair, he could have ripped it all out with this strange combination of feelings. As bad as he'd imagined it, actually having this talk was a hundred times worse. And he wasn't sure what hurt more: the fact she wanted to protect him from a truth that devastated him, the fact that she just admitted she loved him—and probably still believed he hated her—or the fact that there was, in reality, blame on both sides for all this dysfunction. He decided it all stung equally and that's why he'd avoided it.
Slamming a fist onto his armrest, Bruce spun back around to his job at hand, and his fingers resumed dancing across keys while he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
It was late in the night… Or maybe early in the morning when Alfred stepped down the staircase and treaded over beside Bruce's chair. He had a cautious aura about him as he eyed his Master, who was absently glazed over and toiling in his own thoughts. And judging by the half empty bottle and glass sitting beside the keyboard, he was more than a little drunk.
"Sir?" Alfred asked gently. Bruce seemed to snap out of whatever haze he was in and slowly looked up at his butler. Alfred frowned upon seeing the dark circles that made their home under Bruce's eyes, exhaustion and misery swirling in his gaze. "Are you… In need of anything?" The butler prodded.
Bruce shook his head and turned his gaze to his lap. "No."
"You're sure? You don't wish to talk?"
"That is the last thing I want right now." He groaned, swigging down a sip from his glass and wincing slightly as it burned on the way down.
Alfred stood for a moment, concern eating away at him. Then carefully, he began, "I assured Ms. Kyle she wouldn't need to make other arrangements and she was still more than welcome here. That is the case, yes?" He was met with a huff of aggravation buried in a bitter chuckle.
"I'm not gonna kick her out, for God's sake. I would never…" Bruce's voice trailed off a bit before he shot a sideways look up at Alfred, "Does Selina really think I would?"
Alfred was caught somewhat off guard by that question, but he quickly recovered his composure, "Well, she asked if it would be better if she went home. She didn't ask if it's what you wanted—"
"But it's what she thinks I want." He replied, lightly rubbing his eyes with his free hand. They didn't say anything more for a while—there was nothing much to say at this point—before Bruce set his glass down and leaned on his knees. "You know what keeps going through my head?" Alfred didn't, "The night of that benefit. You know, the one we had gone to after these healed?" Bruce gestured to the scars on his chest. "Did I ever tell you about that?"
"You most certainly did not."
A weary smile crossed his face. "Everything had just been normal, we were there, she was gorgeous, nothing new. But when we were driving home, she told me to turn off on this kind of side road. I'd seen it before but never knew where it went. Turns out it was one of the nicest views of Gotham I've ever seen." Alfred's mouth quirked into a small smile, it seemed like something Selina would do. "We ended up talking, just talking that whole time. And… I don't know, it was when I first realized we could be in a serious relationship, I guess." Bruce's fondness for the memory slowly dissipated off his face and he sank back into his current situation, and he figured Alfred was probably well aware of what had happened.
"How is she?" Came Bruce's quiet question.
Alfred hesitated, unsure if it would help or hurt him to know. "She's in about the same place you are, I'd say."
Bruce let out a small snort, "That bad, huh?"
"But at least she's gotten some sleep." Alfred was hinting at what Bruce needed, and he got brushed off.
"I didn't know it could hurt to hear someone say they love you." He said in a hush, almost under his breath. Alfred's eyebrows didn't know they could jump that high. When Bruce glanced up at him, he realized his butler hadn't obtained all the information, but by the look in his eyes he rapidly pieced it together.
"No wonder you're drunk, sir." The Englishman almost wanted to join him by the time he figured what kind of an explosion had occurred. Bruce chuckled a bit, and Alfred gave him a look, "She doesn't know that you love her?"
"I highly doubt she'd believe me. I'm pretty sure she's still under the impression I hate her."
Alfred released as much of a sigh as Bruce had ever heard. A few moments passed between them before Alfred's hand found his shoulder, "I think talking to her again might yield a different outcome, sir."
Bruce cocked a glance back at him, "If I had been within striking distance, there'd be a bruise on my jaw."
"Next time you won't be looking to hurt her. And vice versa."
He was quiet as he considered that, then he ran a hand through his hair. "I just wish we could go back. Back when we were happy and normal…"
Alfred gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Nothing is impossible, sir. We don't know what damage is repairable until we look under the hood." Bruce nodded some and let out a tired breath. "I would highly recommend chatting with Ms. Kyle again. When you're not hung over, of course."
"Of course." Giving a weak smile up to his butler, he sat back in his chair.
"Don't give up, sir."
"Good night, Alfred."
"Good night, Master Bruce."
It had been three or four days—they blurred together along with his insomnia—since the knock-down drag-out confrontation. It clung to his conscience like a thick fog, and Bruce had trouble concentrating on much else. He finally took a day off from his day job to catch up on some much needed rest, no longer having to—wanting to—needing to—dodging Selina at home.
He woke up in the early afternoon highly reluctant to pull himself out of sleep even then, but his stomach rumbled and begged him pathetically. Rolling out of plush warmth, Bruce started down the hallway to the kitchen, slowing as he passed Selina's door. It wasn't quite shut all the way—likely for Isis' sake—and he could hear subtle noises that alluded to her presence within. Quietly clearing his throat he continued on, but when he reached the stairs a small note taped to the wall caught his gaze. Plucking it, Bruce's eyes scanned over the bright index card,
Bruce,
Alfred went to the store, won't be home for a while.
He said he had something special planned for dinner and stores are crazy this time of year.
Plus Isis needed litter.
FYI
Selina
With her signature paw doodled beside her name. An eyebrow cocked up on his face. This was definitely new. He was somewhat surprised she was speaking to him through a note card if at all. Shrugging that off, he descended the stairs and cut through the living room—to see a note card folded in half, standing on its edge on the couch's armrest. Bruce glanced back at those stairs leading to a very puzzling woman. This folded note had his name scrawled across its front flap, and he opened it to see,
Isis has been scratching your couch. Trying to stop her but she does what she wants.
If you see her doing it, feel free to throw a toy, it helps.
Sorry in advance,
Selina
With a paw print and an arrow pointing down to the destruction occurring to the aforementioned upholstery along with a small pile of toys lying at his feet. Bruce smiled. Popping out from under the couch as if on cue, Isis strolled over and wound herself around his legs with a purr, trying to prove her innocence and buy his favor, probably. He bent down and scooped her up, lightly scratching her head as he took her with him to the kitchen. Setting Isis down on the counter, he found a third note pinned by a magnet to the fridge and a fourth note sticking halfway out of a drawer. He grabbed the one on the fridge first,
Bruce,
Whole milk is for the cat, half empty 2% carton is mine.
So are the pudding cups.
And the kiwis.
Whatever's left is fair game.
FYI
Selina
And the paw print, although this note was written in a different color—a different pen, which meant it was written at a different time. Isis let out a demanding meow and as he pet her, he tugged out the next note,
You guys have the nicest every day spoons I've ever seen.
Well done.
Selina
Paw print. Bruce was starting to understand what she was doing. He'd been absent and she'd wanted to talk to him, but after their spat things were too tense to make chit-chat. Since he was home for the day, she had begun leaving notes telling him about bits of information she thought he should have, but didn't want to tell him in person. Then, it appears she began leaving her general thoughts lying about. Because Selina would know that he'd want to hear her every day findings.
As he opened another cabinet, he found a note asking him to please grab down her favorite glass, Alfred had put it away but on a shelf too high for her to reach. Inside the fridge, he found a note stating that she'd memorized how many pudding cups she had, back off, but there were leftovers from lunch that he might want. And tied to a banana in the fruit bowl from a string—one that must have taken a particular amount of effort for someone with a single operational arm—a note told him this was deemed most fresh and he should have it if he was in a rush.
After scarfing down those leftovers and maybe leaving out a saucer of milk for Isis—but no one had to know it was him—Bruce bundled her notes neatly and left. Walking back to his room, Isis was following him now of all things, and joined him in his quarters before he closed the door.
There was a note on his nightstand. That hadn't been there before. Which meant she'd slipped in while he'd been out. Picking it up slowly as if it may bite him should he move too fast, Bruce tipped it up to read,
Did you grab my glass down?
If you ate a kiwi I'll know that too.
And remember to leave your door cracked if Isis comes with you.
Unless you can sleep through scratching on your door and hollering.
The paw print replaced her name altogether now. He paused, pondering his options at this point, before he pulled out a small pad of paper from his nightstand and a pen. Clutching the cap in his teeth, Bruce quickly scribbled down between the metered lines. He strode back down the hallway to her door where he flicked the paper under, then returned to his room. Making sure the door was open some in case Isis wanted out. Currently the cat snuggled against him on his bed, enjoying the gentle attention he gave her.
Selina,
Yes, it's sitting on the counter for your convenience.
I didn't touch any of your food or your milk for that matter, Miss Paranoid. I don't want to lose a digit.
Isis can come and go as she pleases. I think she likes my bed.
And don't worry about the couch. Alfred might care but I don't.
Bruce was relaxed with Isis when he heard a soft shuffle across the floor. Glancing down, a note stared back at him. He scooted down and leaned over the edge of the bed—heaven forbid his feet touch the floor again—scooping it up. The paw print replaced her name, leaving just three words which brought a little smile to his face once more. Perhaps it wasn't exactly healthy to stay away from each other this way, perhaps it was cowardly or childish, but he absorbed great comfort from her words just knowing they were from her. No matter how brief they were.
Thank you, Bruce.
