"I didn't want to believe it was you," he sounds so sad. Disappointed. But there's a hint of controlled recognition as if he knew all along not to expect anything less of me. After all, for all these years he had been trying to tame me without much success. If anything, he had further tempted me to commit bad deeds; at least on quiet weeknights when there hadn't been much to do and I got bored. Or if I wanted to see him. He isn't easy to contact without the use of a big, bright bat signal.

I smile sheepishly, knowing just what to expect when I turn around. He stands tall and stiff, his arms tense at his sides and his cape billows at his back in the wind. I can't look past his jaw though, all sharp edges and restrained fury. That's the jaw I've stained with the colour of my lipstick when I kissed him, and that's the stubble of his chin that I've felt against my neck when he trailed his lips over my skin. I know these features intimately, and I can't help but feel drawn to them. I miss being able to see the sharp edges soften when he didn't know I was looking.

"But you just knew, didn't you?" I say knowingly, gesturing for him to come closer. He doesn't hesitate to stand at my side, his eyes diverted to the city skyline. Does he see Gotham the same way I do? Stunning from afar, horrid and cruel up close. Or does he retain more hope for this world than I do? It's hard to tell whether he's just optimistic or if I'm too pessimistic.

"It was so seamless," he explained, "too perfect not to be you."

"That almost sounded like a compliment."

"In a twisted way, it was," he agrees, but he doesn't try to take it back. "So why now? After all we have been through?"

"We? I'm pretty sure we had very different lives this year," I crouch down, looking not at the lights of Gotham as she flickers with life, but instead at the pavement below. There, I left a little present for Harley.

"Okay. Then what about after all you have been through?"

"That's why. Because of all I've been through," I answer and he crouches down beside me, following my train of sight curiously.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Just watch."

I smile and Bruce's posture turns tense once he sees Harley exit the building. He reaches towards his utility belt for a batarang but I catch his hand and shake my head in warning. "Pull the stick from your ass just for one night, and watch."

He mutters something under his breath irritably, but does as he's told and waits. It isn't hard to tell that I'm testing his patience, and though he came here rather peacefully, he may not be able to leave in the same manner.

Harley picks up the parcel from the doorstep and rips away the paper like a little kid on Christmas morning, squealing in delight as she wields the wooden mallet that had been stolen from her for the Mirror House auction. I grin, watching her as she peppers the mallet with kisses, skipping up and down on the spot before giving it a few test swings.

"You broke into GCPD evidence lockup just to give Harley her mallet back?" Bruce asks incredulously. "Wasn't it too easy for you? Too boring?"

"No. Look how happy she is," I tell him honestly and stand upright. "Harley is the reason Damian and I are alive. You should give her some credit."

"And a free pass?" he asks, casting me a sidelong look.

"Is that too much to ask?" I give him a stern look, my jaw tensing. "You give me a free pass all the time."

"And it always comes back to bite me," he points out and laughs. Actually laughs. The sound startles me and my jaw slackens. I blink in surprise. "Just as I think I'm starting to understand you, you go and do something completely unexpected."

"We've been playing that game for a long time, now," I say, deadpan. "You should expect the unexpected."

He nods solemnly, "I'll try to remember that." He appraises me carefully, looking me up and down and tilting his head to the side a little in apprehension of my attire. "So you are back, huh?"

"Is that a problem?" I raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

"Only time will tell," he decides, not willing to commit to any straight answer.

"It fits me better."

"Well, I wouldn't say better. I'd say it fits you… differently."

"You must have known the cape and cowl wasn't right for me when you asked me to wear it. You must have realised that putting on the shoe doesn't magically make it fit," I say dejectedly.

"I didn't know. I was just hoping that it would help you see yourself differently," he sighs.

"It did. So different in fact, that I didn't see myself there at all."

Bruce recoils a little and nods his head abjectly, casting his gaze to the ground. He can hear the confusion in my voice, he can feel the absolute hurt in my words. He tried to change me but instead I simply broke. I saw the world through his eyes and found it to be just as corrupt. He inadvertently taught me that there was no changing this life, there is only drowning beneath it or swimming with the current.

"It was my mistake. I shouldn't have burdened you like that. I should have been clearer in my intentions," he admits, his voice softening. "You know what… this look does suit you better." He looks up at me, waiting to see my reaction.

The way he looks at me… I remember how easily I melt into him, how I move into his touch. I lure him in, but he doesn't even have to try pulling me in; I go to him without being asked.

"So a lot happened after you left?" Bruce asks gently. Perhaps I hadn't convinced Alfred of my wellbeing after all, because it certainly sounds as though Bruce knew all along that I hadn't been thriving.

"Just a bit," I lie, in a way that tells him I'm lying. Perhaps there was something to Matthew's assessment of me after all. "I might have told you all about it if you hadn't been busy saving Gotham one cracked skull at a time."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his shoulders slumping minutely. Only someone who really knew him would even notice the shift. It tells me he means it. This too comes as a surprise. Maybe this past year had in fact changed him as much as it had me.

"You should be," I sniff sourly and cross my arms. I have to swallow hard against the lump in my throat, but the quiver in my voice betrays me. "I needed you. And you were right there. There in the next room. Yet you were still so far away from me." I approach him quickly, my finger pointed at him in accusation. "I tried to play by your rules, Bruce. I truly did. But this life has spit me back out. Not that you would understand. You can't. Even without your parents, you grew up in a life of privilege. I never had that chance."

"I'm sorry," he says again, his voice heavy with genuine regret. But it's too late for him to have nothing more to say. He twists his hands together guiltily, shrinking further down within himself.

"And? But? Anything you want to add?"

"You were working with Jason behind my back," he sighs deeply.

"'Working with' is a fairly loose term. It was more like 'working near' each other. Reluctantly."

"He isn't to be trusted, Selina. His mind has been twisted by The Joker. There's no telling what he'll do, or even what he is capable of."

I realise he isn't mad at me. He's concerned for me. His years of repressed emotions has left him incapable of distinguishing between the two. But I can see the difference.

"I'm a big girl," I say slyly, "I never trusted him, Bruce."

He considers me for a moment, weighing his words before choosing to utter them. "Do you trust me?"

"That depends. Do you trust me?"

"Honestly? With everything I have," he admits and I take two steps back. That look in his eye. The one I have only ever seen once before. The same look I'd been searching for all this time and now…

I've found it.

He's looking at me longingly. Lovingly.

"That seems a bit foolish," I stumble over my words, startled.

He knows. He understands. And he has accepted that there is just no changing me. The truth is, there's no part of me now that he would choose to alter: I'd be too different if he did.

"It's okay, Selina. It's okay. Want a head start?" he asks and gestures to the horizon with a gentle smile.

"You think I want to run away from this? From you?" I ask.

"I know you do. And I don't blame you. After everything that I did…"

"Bruce, about what I said all those months ago… That time has passed. I know you feel responsible for those children and I know you'll never forgive yourself for their deaths. It shouldn't matter what I think."

"But it does matter. Because you were right."

I cross my arms, looking down at my feet. "And you were right about Matthew. How about we call it even?"

He considers me for a moment and then smiles. "I'd like that… so… head start?"

I relax, a reciprocating smile sweeping through me. "Don't need one."

He laughs, the sound like music to my ears. I leap from the rooftop and crack my whip, swinging to the fire escape of the adjacent building. I feel a quick rush of adrenaline, excitement tingling from my fingers to my toes.

I can hear him not too far behind. It had been so long since we had last done this, and I had forgotten just how thrilling it could be. There's a lot we are choosing not to utter. Dark truths that pain us, and sharp lies we spit to hide them. It's the cruel reality we live in where I am a criminal and he is justice personified.

We don't work together like a yin and yang.

Together we blur the lines and imbalance the relationship. I've broken his heart by turning back to a life of crime, and he had broken mine by having turned me away from it in the first place.

While we know now never to repeat history, it tends to repeat itself anyway. We'll always find ourselves here. Here in the simplicity of him chasing me, toying with one another the way we used to.

Maybe he'll hold me differently in future, maybe his lips will trace my skin with a true desire to see how I taste. Maybe he'll lie beside me and let the world keep spinning without him for a little while. Maybe I'll come to learn whether he snores or what he sounds like when he first wakes up. Some things will be undoubtedly different. I don't think we can look beyond this past year so entirely, but I know we can't throw everything away and start anew. We can't pretend that we met in a coffee shop or had a first date at the movies where we shared a bucket of popcorn and drank from the same straw. What we have, whatever that may be, won't ever be like that.

But it won't be quite like this either. This is us as we truly are.

For now, we decide to enjoy this while it lasts.

We are one, if only for tonight. And together we run through Gotham's dark, beautiful streets: the Cat and her Bat.

Thanks so much for reading, guys! This is the final chapter of this story and I am so glad I could share it with you. I spent about a year working on it (with some off periods where I wouldn't even touch it for a while). I don't think it's perfect by any means, but I'm happy that I finished it. I've wanted to be a writer since I was about 10 years old if not younger, but I lost confidence in my work over the years (particularly in high school), so writing this and posting it has been so beneficial for me.

Maybe this story didn't end the way you expected, and to be honest I didn't know for a long time what the details of this ending was going to be. But I planned all along for her to go back to being Catwoman. But is that a good thing? After all, a major theme in this story is the idea of history always repeating itself.

Let me know what you thought in the comments :) And thanks again for reading.