Nota Bene: This story is not canon. I don't follow the comics and only know the various stories from the movies and growing up with Batman cartoons, supplemented with internet research. As with my previous stories, this started with a dream and is combined with ramblings of my own mind. In this case, it is a little personal fantasy, too. Batman. Mmm. Hot.

Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.


Chapter 9: The Joker

Selina Kyle laid in bed after she calmed down from her revelation, surprisingly clear-headed and with a lightness to her soul she had been missing for a while. Despite the emotional fatigue, she almost felt refreshed. Now that she wasn't struggling with the guilt of her dual relationships, she could see what their future could become.

She was a little miffed that Bruce had obviously figured out her identity months ago. She was still a little hurt that he hadn't told her who he was yet, either. But she saw the emotion in his eyes as Bruce and recognized the significance of the times he had shared pieces of soul on those rooftops as Batman. He cared about her - in both of their identities. what was holding him back? Did he still not trust her fully? She could understand if that was his hesitation. She had been a criminal for the entirety of their relationship.

She turned out the light and rolled over to go to sleep. Isis was already snuggled at her feet, purring softly. Selina needed some rest. She had a lot of work to do to plan her next heist. It would be the biggest, most important one she had ever set her sights on. She was going to steal the heart of Batman.

Across town, Bruce Wayne paced violently, his mind racing. He had almost come unglued earlier. After Selina had left, he had descended quickly and painfully into the darkness. Guilt, confusion, and a paralyzing loneliness. He was keenly aware of the pain he was causing her with his indecision and obsessive need to fix everything. But his life was a mess. When Bruce and Selina were together, he had a tiny glimpse of a normal life. And when he rolled across rooftops with Catwoman or came to her broken and bleeding, he was acutely aware of how well they worked together as a team. But that didn't excuse what he had done to this city. How many times he had failed, how many lives had been lost because of him.

A half a bottle of scotch later, the fireplace had burned to embers, and he had thought through every possible outcome, gone down every possible contingency. An hour earlier, he had gathered the strength to fold his legs beneath him and close his eyes, working his way through the deep meditation sequence he had learned from Ra's Al Ghul years ago. He cleared his mind of the demons and focused on the things he could truly control. He could continue to fight villains when they appeared. He would continue to do everything in his power to save Gotham. And he loved Selina more than his own life. There was only one way forward, only one path. With her.

When he finally emerged from the darkness of his mind, he possessed a new determination.

He needed to tell her. He couldn't keep this secret any longer. She'd become an integral part of his life, in both identities. She'd befriended Alfred. She was capable of making both Bruce Wayne and Batman smile. Dick, begrudgingly, accepted her. She belonged by his side.

They had been attacked by villains twice this week already. And this wasn't the end, he could feel it. Countless people had died, once again. Something was coming; he just wasn't sure what it was. Somewhere deep inside him he knew it was going to be bad.

He could not allow the events of the past week to break him. Taking one last cleansing breath, he focused on how fleeting life was. One day, he had Jason by his side, the next, he was pulling his broken body from the rubble. Life as Batman was dangerous, the next time he fought an adversary, he could die. He had countless close calls over the years. But he couldn't let that limit him. She was as strong as he was, she could handle the danger of a life with him. And he wasn't going to sacrifice the small amount of light he had in his life any longer for fear of the consequences.

But the fact did remain that she was a thief. He was Batman. She was Catwoman. He couldn't make her give that part of herself up. He could no sooner give up being Batman. It was who he was, and he knew she felt the same about being Catwoman. But they would figure it out. They belonged together.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell her. But how? How would she react to the fact that he had known who she was since their first meeting? He thought of the diamond claws that adorned her costume and figured not well.


Joker and Harley Quinn sat in the Iceberg Lounge, an establishment that he now ran following the incarceration of Harvey Two-Face and Scarecrow – at least until they escaped again. Harley was draped over his shoulders, giggling in his ear, while he downed pain killers and speed with vodka. It was taking more and more to get through each night.

He had been fighting the Batman for almost 15 years now. He may be crazy, but he's no idiot. At 53 years old, his time topping the crime world was nearing the end. He couldn't sustain the same level of abuse by Batman any more, and there were only so many times and so many different ways he could try to end the Bat.

He knew the Bat was feeling the same fatigue. He had watched him for years and knew how he moved, how he held himself. The past year, he had seen Batman slowing down, taking longer to recover. He had known it was time for one last push against his nemesis. If it worked, and Scarecrow or Harvey pushed Batman past the limit, Joker won. And if it came down to him to make him snap, then Joker would go out with a bang. There was no retirement home for super villains, no beachy escape in Mexico. This collaboration with the other two had been his last-ditch effort, a chance to go out on top, to establish his legacy once and for all as the greatest there had ever been.

He had hadn't really thought Scarecrow had a chance against the Bat, but he had set the scene well and thrown Batman off balance when Two-Face's attack came so close afterwards. He really thought Harvey was going to have him, until Catwoman had interfered.

Ah, yes. That damn Cat.

After he had killed Robin months ago, Joker had thought the pain would end Batman. He had watched at a distance as Batman had carried the broken body out of the rubble, smiling to himself as he heard the anguished cry of pain that had engulfed the Bat. He had been close. So very close to the edge after that. Rage and lack of control. All he needed to do was give him one solid push and he would have tumbled off into the abyss. But then she had changed things.

Over the past few months, there had been a distinct correlation between increased sightings of the two of them together and an upswing in Batman's effectiveness. Then there was the fact that she had worked with him to take down Two-Face. That bitch was helping him. Joker sneered as he thought about the emotional ramifications of love on the hero. Batman cared too much. About Robin, this damned city, its clueless populace. About her. And Joker was going to hammer away at that until this came to an end.


An hour later, Batman's life was thrown into complete chaos.

Bruce was in the Batcave monitoring the police radio while several television screens played in the background. The local news cut into 2am reruns. Vicky Vale was back on the scene after a few days' hiatus following her kidnapping by Two-Face.

"While Gotham is still reeling from this week's attacks by both Scarecrow and Two-Face, a new blood has been shed. Catwoman, the infamous burglar and recent hero, has been found dead from a gunshot wound. Her body was discovered outside GCPD headquarters just 15 minutes ago." The screen showed the body of a woman dressed in a black body suit laying on the pavement, a pool of blood seeping from her head. She was surrounded by flashing police lights and a coroner's van. "There was a note attached to the body. "She didn't have to die.""

Bruce's head swam and he couldn't pull enough breath into his chest. He fell to his knees, suddenly lacking all control over his body. Cold adrenaline coursed through him and he refused to believe what he saw. He shook his head. No. She was just here. It can't be her.

He dragged himself to the Batwave and replayed the segment. No, it's not her. But the image didn't lie. The body was the same size as Selina, the suit looked the same. Goggles lay a foot away. Bruce knew she had left hours ago. That was plenty of time for something to happen.

Bruce gulped air into his lungs in an attempt to regain control. As soon as he could stand, he leapt into the Batmobile and peeled out. He reacted without thinking and raced to her apartment, almost spinning out in his absolute panic to reach her apartment. It's not her. She's home. I know it. It's not her. He repeated it over and over again, a mantra to his sanity.

He parked two blocks away in an abandoned lot and shot the grappling gun into the neighboring building, swinging to the roof and sprinting to her rooftop. Without a second's hesitation, he shouldered open the french doors on her balcony open and burst into the room. What he saw brought tears to his eyes and he fell to his knees, sobbing.

The shattering of glass and splintering of wood rocked Selina from her sleep. She scrambled out of bed and stood ready to fight, legs braced apart, hands fisted and at the ready. Isis growled and hissed and retreated behind her. She was well aware that she was now a target and in a flash, prepared to fight to survive. But Selina wasn't prepared for the sight before her. Batman knelt in the debris, his head in his hands, his body shuddering.

She rushed to him and pulled him into her arms, broken glass cutting into her bare feet. "Bruce, what is it? Are you hurt? What's wrong? Oh, God, are you ok?"

He offered no response, just stood and clutched her to him in a crushing embrace. A split second later, his mouth was on hers, the kiss full of desperation, but she pulled away to search his face for answers. His face was wet with tears.

When he gasped a breath and moaned her name, she squeezed him tighter. "Shhh. It's ok, love. It's ok, Bruce," she purred, running her hand up and down his back, trying to comfort him. She pulled him into the living room and forced him onto the couch with her.

Selina couldn't process what was going on. She had never seen him like this. What had happened that he had busted into her apartment and collapsed? What had gone so wrong that he now shook uncontrollably in her arms?

She reached up and pulled the cowl from his head, placing her hands gently on either side of his face. She kissed him gently as he began to calm.

"Selina," he groaned. "You're alive. I knew it. It wasn't you. I knew it couldn't be you."

"I'm fine. I'm right here. Everything is ok. What's going on?" In response, Bruce pulled her into another embrace. Then, as suddenly as he had burst into her room, he scrambled back, standing up and running his hands through his hair, realizing for the first time he lacked his mask.

His blue eyes were ringed with black face-paint, but Selina saw relief war with confusion in his features.

"You know," he gasped.

Selina stood and nodded. "Yes." She walked towards him slowly, cautious of his turbulent mood.

"What's going on, Bruce?"

"I thought...you...the news." He grabbed her remote and turned on the TV, flipping channels until he found the coverage of the Catwoman body that had been found.

"Oh, shit." Selina knew this was bad. Really bad. Someone had used her to get to him.

"It's ok. I'm ok. It's not me." She pulled him back to the couch.

"Selina, I don't know what I would have done if it had been you." She could hear his pain.

They laid in each other's arms for a few minutes, letting the adrenaline wear off.

Finally, when Bruce had regained his composure, he kissed her hard, mouth hot on hers, his hands clasping her tight to him. When he broke the kiss, he took a deep breath and watched her closely. "Selina. You're not safe here. Whoever planted that body did it for one purpose: to test my reaction, see what I would do when I found out. I don't know if I was followed, I don't know who saw me racing through the city to get to you. We have to go. Now."

Selina nodded and walked towards her bedroom closet, grabbing her go-bag and tossing it onto the bed. She donned her Catwoman costume quickly, and walked into the kitchen, where she dug out a bag of cat food and a couple catnip mice. Last, she snagged Isis' cat carrier from the hall closet and coaxed the frightened cat inside. Bruce placed his mask back on, threw her bags over his shoulder and nodded to Selina, who now had the cat carrier in her hand. "Let's go."

This time, when they arrived in the Batcave, Selina was free of the blindfold. She saw Alfred waiting at the top of the stairs and called a greeting to him. He was obviously confused, but his staunch dignity didn't allow him to question.

"Master Bruce. I'm glad you've returned. There seems to be some bad news." Alfred eyed the visitor carefully and wondered what exactly was going on.

"I know Alfred, but she's alright. It wasn't her."

Slowly, Alfred shook his head. "No, sir. Not Catwoman. The others, sir."

Bruce raced to his computer and began to monitor the feeds again. Bodies were being dumped all over Gotham. Women in Catwoman costumes now said "She's going to die." Shit. He had been watched.

But that wasn't it. Young kids in Robin costumes were now being found dead adorned with notes reading "He didn't deserve this" and "You failed him". And more civilians were popping up randomly, all over the city, all featuring death notes. "This is your fault."