A/N: Yeah, so this chapter is definitely coming out late. Let me tell you about my week. Monday: a thousand assignments due for no apparent reason. Tuesday: two chapter tests the day before finals + performing in a graduation ceremony. Wednesday: first two exams (the easiest of the bunch) + doing a Greatest Showman lip-sync performance where I'm playing PT Barnum and I still don't have the costume. Thursday: Math exam, enough said. Friday: Science and Spanish exams (aka actual suicide). Then I'm free! So yeah, I have absolutely no idea when this will come out even though writing this chapter is the only thing I actually want to do this week, but so if life for us student-writers. Now I'm gonna stop my wining and actually talk about something I enjoy:
I don't read as many Gotham stories on here as I used to since I don't want to intentionally/unintentionally steal other peoples' ideas, but I happened to glance over at the main forum for Gotham stories and almost every single one of them were either BatCat or Season 6.
I love this fandom so much.
And once again, sorry for the wait. I know the last chapter barely had any Bruce/Selina interactions, but that effectively ends here. So here's Chapter 36 of Roles Reversed. Hope you enjoy!
New Dawn Rising
Bruce's eyes shot open, his breath rapid and panicked. He frantically looked around his unfamiliar surroundings, searching for the source of the gunshot, but his setting was very different from what he'd thought it was, from what he'd just been seeing.
There'd been a man clad in black standing in an alleyway, holding up a small family of a father, mother and daughter. The night was cold and wet, the moon just barely peeking out from behind the clouds. The little moonlight that filled the alley glinted off of the man's pistol, the barrel of which was trained on the father's chest. The little girl was cowering behind her parents, her sparkling green eyes wide with horror. The father calmly complied with the attacker's demands, first handing over his wallet, then the lady's purse, and then her pearl necklace. The woman's hands were trembling violently as she reached around to unclasp the heirloom. A strand broke and pearls went everywhere.
Bruce had seen this scene a thousand times before. He knew how it ended.
But this one, this viewing of the scene, was different. Whenever he relived the memory of that night, he always saw it from one of three perspectives: either from the child's eyes, from his own eyes as he cowered in a nearby fire escape, or from the eyes of someone else, someone who would protect the family from what was about to happen, often at the cost of his own life.
Bruce was none of them.
This time, he was standing across from the family, a gun in his hand. He reached out to grab the woman's necklace, and sneered down at the child as she tugged at her father's pant leg.
When the job was done, he fired the gun once, and then again. He lowered the gun to level with the girl's head.
And he fired.
Instantly, Bruce's eyes fluttered open. His heart was racing. He searched frantically, wanting to know the fate of the little girl, yet knowing very well what would've happened had he not awoken in time.
He'd fired the shot.
Bruce looked up, noticing his two companions for the first time. Jean was still out cold, leaning against the window with a sliver of drool running down his chin. Talia on the other hand was staring dead at him, her eyes cold and piercing. He got the feeling she knew exactly what he'd just done, the horrible crime he'd committed.
Yet she said nothing, silently returning her gaze to the world speeding by the train.
Bruce wiped at his eyes, trying to chase the nightmare away. He took a deep breath and croaked, "Where are we?"
Talia simply nodded out the window and Bruce followed her gaze. He saw Gotham, dawn just breaking over the horizon, lighting the skyline a golden orange. He sometimes forgot how beautiful a place his home could be. It wasn't all gang wars and criminals, there were good things about it too, good people. Speaking of which, a jolt from the train shook Jean awake.
In six months, he'd become better friends with Jean than anyone else in his life (besides Selina and Ted of course, but they were in a category of their own). When he dropped his tough exterior, he was actually a really good guy. Was he flawed? Yes. Was he occasionally a homicidal maniac, especially when it came to the Order of St. Dumas? Yes. But everyone had their shortcomings, and in his line of work Jean's crusade was nowhere near the worst thing one of his friends/acquaintances had done.
That spot undoubtedly went to Jack.
Jean stretched out his back and neck, groaning, "Good morning." He cocked an eyebrow, studying Talia's sunken eyes. "Did you sleep at all?"
She shook her head, keeping her eyes trained outside. "Someone had to stay awake to keep this safe," she said irritably, patting the crate next to her. Through a massive yawn, she continued, "And I sure as hell wasn't letting either of you watch it."
Bruce and Jean both dropped their gazes to the floorboards. She'd told them both what would happen were they to touch the swords in the crate, how they'd kill anyone who was impure of heart. Bruce didn't think he was an angel by any means, as demonstrated by his actions back in Bludhaven. But he wasn't some mass-murdering lunatic like Talia's father, and if Bruce couldn't touch one without being killed, what chance did someone like Ra's al Ghul have? If the swords really were holy, he'd be vaporized on the spot just by looking at them.
The train came to a screeching halt. Talia stood up first, scooping up the long crate in her arms and shuffling off, refusing to let Bruce or Jean help hold it. They followed suit, flanking her on either side as they made their way back into the city.
Bruce let out a sigh of relief as the distinct, nauseating smog hit his nostrils. He was home. He could put everything that'd happened in Bludhaven behind him, like a bad dream.
"What now?" he asked Talia. "Do I need to go back with you to debrief, or…"
She glanced at him, then Jean, and then back at his, slowly shaking her head. "No. You can do whatever. If my dad needs you, well, I know where to find you."
He nodded, asking Jean. "Speaking of which, are you going back to the apartment?"
Jean shook his head. "I'm gonna go out of town for a while, actually. There are some things I want to look into," he said, sending a sideways glance at the crate in Talia's arms. "I'll walk you back," he told her.
She nodded. "Fine." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think it goes without saying that neither of you are to mention what happened tonight to anyone." She gave Bruce a not-so-subtle look.
He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I promise I won't tell anyone," adding, "not even Selina."
Talia gave a slow nod, clearly still unconvinced. "Right. Anyways, we should get going. Good work tonight, Bruce."
He blinked a few times, not entirely sure if he'd heard her right. Had she just…complimented him? The thought alone was scarier than anything else he'd experienced that night. He nodded. "Okay, yeah, you too. I'll see you around, Jean."
Jean nodded, seeming just as confused as Talia and Bruce were. Since when were they able to have a civilized discussion about…well…anything? "Yeah, I shouldn't be long. Try not to do something stupid while I'm gone."
Talia scoffed. "But stupid is what he does best."
And the universe was back in balance.
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Whatever. And right back at you, Valley. I can't afford the apartment on my own."
As he walked off, Jean called at him, "Yeah, but your girlfriend sure can."
Bruce flicked him off, turning the corner and heading further into the city.
How many times did he have to say it? Selina wasn't his girlfriend. That was never a thing, nor would it ever be one.
Then, a single question popped up in his mind, and he nearly tripped over air.
Why not?
Well…there were lots of reasons why not. For starters: she was the heiress of Gotham, and he was a street rat. Yet, had that ever stopped them before? She'd taken him to a charity ball where they'd danced in front of everyone, and there'd been no shame in her eyes. Quite the opposite, really, she'd looked at him with pride.
But that was just a job, they were acting.
And what about all the times he'd hurt her? Like when she went out of her way to buy him a new coat for the winter and he'd basically laughed in her face and told her to stop hassling him. Who was to say he wouldn't do something like that again?
The answer was pretty obvious: experience. Experience was who. Those two months without her had been utter hell, and when he'd apologized and she'd forgiven him everything started to go right again. Even when they didn't, he would've rather gone through them with Selina than without her.
Fine, that was a bad example. What about the danger in his work? Jack, Penguin, the League and its enemies, none of them would blink an eye at the thought of hurting her to get to him. Just his presence alone seemed to bring danger to her. How could he do that to her? After everything she'd been through, how could he put her through anything else?
But that wasn't entirely true either. Had he not been there at the magic show, she would've been dead. Had he not intervened when the assassins went after him, she would've been dead. Had he not thrown that rock and spooked the Wayne killer, she would've been dead. Had he not stopped Sonny, or even Clyde, from taking her, she might've wished she was dead.
His raw fist ached at the thought. He rubbed it soothingly, trying to push down the bubble of rage that'd began to rise in his chest.
It was over. He'd stopped that guy in Bludhaven, saved those two girls, and gotten away. He needed to put it behind him. It wasn't the first time he'd gone after people like that, so what was the big deal about this one in particular?
Well, he'd never nearly killed someone before.
Bruce shook his head. He didn't do it, he didn't kill that guy. He could've, he had every opportunity, every right. But he didn't do it. And instead of being buried in the ground he was gonna live the rest of his life from a prison cell. He'd done the right thing.
But the knife had been an inch from splitting his face wide open, from permanently ending that man's life.
How could he let that happen? His resolve had slipped right out from underneath him. He'd almost become a killer. Just like Jack, just like Penguin, just like the League and its enemies, just like the people he fought. When he killed, when he crossed that line, he'd be no better than them. No better than the man who'd killed Selina's parents.
But he'd never become that. He'd die first.
He brought his gaze up from the sidewalk, glancing east down the streets and seeing the sun rising higher over the horizon.
It was a new day. His eventful night in Bludhaven was over and there was no going back. What'd happened had happened. There was no use dwelling on things he couldn't control.
But one thing he could control: the reason he'd gone down that rabbit hole in the first place, his relationship with Selina Wayne.
Every objection he'd raised to the idea had been torn to shreds. Was she safer when he was around? No. But was she safer when he wasn't? No. And it wasn't like all the danger in her life had been brought on by him. Galavan, Strange, Wayne Enterprises, he hadn't been a direct part of any of it; he'd just interfered when she was endangered, and so far he'd been successful in protecting her.
So what would be the harm in…expanding their relationship? What was the worst that could happen?
He was so lost in thought he almost walked into someone, although she didn't seem to be paying attention, either.
He stopped on a dime, his arm shooting from his side and latching onto her wrist as they nearly walked past each other. As she whipped around, he saw her start to reach for her knife, a cry of surprise and defiance rising and then dying in her throat.
She stared at him for a few moments, frozen, her eyes unmoving. She looked petrified.
He waved his free hand in front of her face, asking, "Hello? Earth to Cat? You okay?"
Selina blinked a few times, the scared, startled expression remaining on her face as she studied him. It was a little off-putting, her just staring at him silently, her face pale and eyes wide. Something was very, very wrong.
He smiled apprehensively, asking, "What're you doing here?" as he removed his hand from her wrist.
She blinked a few more times, the cogs in her head finally beginning to turn. "Um…I…you…um," she stuttered. Her voice seemed almost jumpy, like his presence was suddenly unnerving to her. After a few moments of silence, her demeanor did a total 180. She stuck out her hip and crossed her arms over her chest, complaining, "You said you'd call me."
A slow, sheepish smile crept across his face. That was it? He hadn't called her? He almost laughed out loud. He scratched the scruff of his neck, saying, "Yeah…sorry about that. A friend needed my help on a job. I just got back, actually."
"From where?" she blurted out, her voice a little too loud.
He raised his brow slightly, but calmly replied, "Bludhaven.
"What were you doing?" she asked just as quickly.
Okay, something was definitely wrong. She seemed frazzled. Why was she in the Narrows? He'd had his phone on him, she could've just called him.
On second thought…no, she couldn't have. He'd turned it off halfway to Bludhaven.
He chuckled lightly, his gaze drooping to the floor. He shook his head, telling her, "Details aren't worth going into. I'm sorry I didn't call; I should've let you know. It just slipped my mind. We were out all night and into the morning."
He could tell that her brain was still churning on something, but on what he had no idea. Her eyes had taken a darker glint and her brow was furrowed, her jaw slightly jutted out to the side like it always was when she was thinking.
Her eyes eventually cleared up and she nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, you look like shit. You want me to walk you home?"
Bruce shrugged, chuckling at her brash sense of humor. "Sure thing, Cat. Are we going street-level or rooftop?"
She arched an eyebrow. "Is that a real question?" she asked as she took off towards the nearest fire escape. "Race you?" she called, already halfway up the first ladder.
He smiled, jogging after her. "Loser buys breakfast?"
"Of course," she replied, picking up her pace as Bruce picked up his.
Something was off with her, he could feel it, but he had no idea what it was. She'd been fine yesterday. What could've changed? It's not like he could ask her what was wrong, she'd just respond that she was fine and blow it off like it was nothing.
But there was something there. He knew it. He'd have to keep an eye on her.
In the meantime, however, he had a race to win.
He overtook her when she realized she didn't know where they were going. Those few hours of sleep he'd gotten on the train to and from Bludhaven were more than he usually got, so, contrasting his worn down appearance, he felt energized.
So, yeah, he won quite easily.
They arrived at his apartment building and descended to the bottom floor, walking in the front door instead of sneaking inside. Selina's eyes went wide when he smiled and waved to the receptionist, and she waved back, asking how he was doing. He quickly replied that he was good before heading upstairs, Selina close on his heels.
"Since when do you live somewhere legally?" she asked.
He laughed. "Since I got a rich roommate…again."
Selina chuckled and shook her head. "I can't believe you're living with Jean-Paul Valley. You were gonna kill him last year."
He shrugged, unlocking the door to his apartment. "Things change."
As the door swung open, Selina let out a low whistle. "Yes…they do."
His apartment was no Wayne Manor by any means, but it was easily the second nicest place he'd ever lived in. It almost resembled Galavan's penthouse apartment, just one story and a little smaller. Jean may not have been orphan, billionaire Sterling St. Cloud, as he'd once claimed to be, but his decimation of the Order of St. Dumas had left a lot of ownerless cash lying around. The first room was their main living space, with their respective bedrooms, the bathroom, and kitchen jutting out from there. They'd stolen a pair of couches from Galavan's apartment (the same ones they'd nearly fought to the death on a few months earlier), along with a television set and wooden coffee table. A large window faced out into the streets of Gotham, bringing in a low, natural light as the sun rose over the nearby buildings.
He hung up his coat and tossed his keys into a nearby bowl. "It's better than the Factory, huh?"
She scoffed and nodded. "You could say that." She motioned for him to go in first, which he did, awkwardly sliding past her through the doorway and heading towards the tiny kitchen.
Thank God they'd finally cleaned it up a few days earlier. Their kitchen usually resembled a warzone, if wars were fought with empty pizza boxes and Ling's takeout. "Did you eat breakfast?" he called as he pulled out a pair of bowls from a cabinet.
"No," she called back. "Do you have–"
"Cocoa Nuts?" he finished, holding the box in the doorway for her to see.
She smiled weakly and took a seat on one of the couches, staring out the window at the rising sun. Bruce peaked through the kitchen door, studying her intently. She looked really tired and her eyes seemed distant and distracted. He'd taken note that she hadn't allowed him to walk behind her since they'd stopped running, even forcing him to squeeze past her into the apartment. It wasn't anything big, just little details that wouldn't have stuck out normally but they'd started to stack up.
He called her name as he walked out of the kitchen, earning no response. He tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped slightly, her gaze snapping away from the streets. Her eyes had a tinge of surprise in them, but there was something else there, too. Distrust?
He handed her the cereal and took the opposite side of the couch. She took hers gratefully, but not-so-subtly waited until he took a spoonful of his before starting on her own bowl.
"So," he started, taking another bite of delicious chocolaty Cocoa Nuts, "what's up with you?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "What?"
He smirked, calmly stating, "You've been acting weird all morning. Talk to me."
She sighed, glancing out the window again. "I ran into Jack when I was looking for you."
Bruce slowly set his bowl of cereal down on the coffee table. It suddenly didn't seem so appetizing. He leaned forward and put a hand on her knee, quickly asking, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head, waving off the suggestion. "No, I'm fine, B. I can handle myself, you know."
"Not with him you can't," he stated, his tone becoming more and more serious by the second. "How did you run into him?"
She rolled her eyes. "I haven't seen Zee in months, I don't know Floyd very well, and Ted wouldn't pick up. I figured if anyone knew where you were–"
"Selina," Bruce interrupted loudly, leaning farther forwards until they were practically breathing the same air. Usually she would've enjoyed having him so close, but things were different now. She couldn't shake the memory of that same face staring down at her as her world faded to black, those same eyes, now alight with passion, cold and dead. "You will never speak to Jack Napier again. Do you understand me?"
She leaned backwards and arched her eyebrows. "Did you just–"
"Do you understand me?" he repeated. He was angry and he was doing nothing to hide it. The dull fire in his eyes was blazing.
She slowly nodded, placing her hand on top of his. "Okay, Bruce. I won't go to him again."
"Swear it," he insisted.
She sighed, stroking the top of his hand soothingly, her fingers running over the long scar that stretched from his knuckle to his elbow. "I swear I'll never speak to, seek out, or enlist the help of Jack Napier, again."
He nodded, but she kept his hand where it was. "Good. I'll just try and forget you ever mentioned it."
She rolled her eyes. "You do that."
He reached for his bowl, putting it on his lap and using his free hand to scarf down the rest of his breakfast, Selina holding the other one as she finished hers. He quietly took deep, calming breaths. Of all the explanations of why she'd been acting oddly that morning, running into Jack Napier had to be one of the worst case scenarios possible. If he'd so much as put a hand on her…
'What?' he asked himself. 'What would you have done? What could you have done? This is Jack we're talking about.'
Selina squeezed his hand and he met her eyes quickly. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I just hate the idea of you going to the Flea, alone." The statement wasn't wholly truthful, but he wasn't lying, either.
She saw right through him. "I went to the Flea all the time when I lived with you," she stated. He cocked an eyebrow suggestively and a light blush rose in her cheeks. "You know what I mean," she stated. "But you didn't care back then, so why now?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself when he realized he was about to lie. He sighed. If he lied, she'd know. "My job last night…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.
She tightened her grip on his hand. "Did it go that bad?"
He shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It went perfect, actually."
"But?" she asked.
He worked his jaw from side to side. "The job was for me, Jean, and a friend to steal a crate. It was being sold at an illegal auction in Bludhaven. It got sold off, we planned to follow the buyer out afterwards, and then I got distracted." He paused for a moment, waiting for her to ask or say something. When she maintained her silence, he continued, "Two girls got sold off to some bastard, and I followed him out instead." She nodded for him to go on. Slowly and carefully, he told her, "I confronted him, got the girls to the police."
She knit her brow. "Okay, that's all good. What else?"
A knot was tightening in his stomach. She soothingly stroked his arm. He sighed, and then finally muttered, "I almost killed him."
He looked up at her, expecting to see horror or disgust in her expression. But it was blank, unchanged from what it'd been five seconds earlier. He knew she was good at putting up a mask, just like he was, but he'd always been able to read her.
"Okay?" she asked, seemingly confused. "What else?"
He blinked a few times, shaking his head. "That…that was it. Selina, I almost killed him."
She arched her brow. "You said this guy bought them, right?" He nodded, and she continued, "So he deserved it."
He studied her expression and had a startling realization: He was having a difficult time reading her. It'd always been easy, since she'd always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but now… Her eyes were clouded over and her expression could've been cut out of stone. There was no emotion there to read.
But the lack thereof emotion told him everything he needed to know.
She was hiding something, and doing a damn good job at it.
He gently pulled his hand away as he stood up, taking their empty bowls of cereal into the kitchen. He calmly and casually saying over his shoulder, "Yeah, you're probably right."
She scoffed good-naturedly, teasing, "Of course I'm right. Piece of shit like that…"
"Pieces of shit like him are half the people I work with," he called as he rinsed out the dishes. "You get used to it."
She smirked, standing up from the couch as he dried his hands off. "Yeah, well I should probably get going. I told Alfred I'd be safe and in the past hour I've had a conversation with Jack Napier and had a meal with a guy alone in his apartment, so…" She gave him a peck on the cheek and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I'm glad you're safe, B."
He hummed in agreement. "You, too." She stepped away and he asked, "You need me to drive you home?"
She shook her head, pulling out her flip phone and telling him, "No, Alfred's around somewhere. I'll just call him."
Bruce nodded, joking, "Tell him I said hi."
She smiled, rolling her eyes as she headed towards the door. "Will do."
The door closed behind her and Bruce slumped into an armchair. He stared long and hard at the door to his apartment after she left.
She was hiding something, something she felt like she couldn't tell him about.
And over the past four years, he'd learned that keeping secrets never ended well when it came to Selina Wayne. She knew it, too.
So what could possibly be so horrible she'd lie to him about it?
The sun came over a cloud and shone through the window. A new dawn was rising. The storm from the night prior was gone and it would lead to a beautiful day.
It was almost insulting, given his position. Selina was lying, he was certain of it, and she'd only lie if she had reason to.
Now it was his job to find out what.
A/N: Okay, so these past two weeks were utter chaos but they're finally over and I'm free for two months so updates will continue as scheduled, if not more often. I can't wait to show you what I have in store (especially the Jack-centric chapter coming up). It's gonna be a wild ride. I'm also starting on the next chapter the second I post this because it's the confession scene and I'm hyped, so that should be coming out very soon as well.
Oh, and I didn't mention it last chapter because I forgot but the guy who was holding the auction, Blackbeard aka Edward Thatch, is a direct callback to the character Blackbeard in the comics. His first appearance was in, get this, Batman #4. Not as in Batman #4 in the New 52, but as in the fourth Batman comic ever published. I was just scrolling through the Batman Wiki searching for a canon character to use for his role and I came across a picture of Batman have a sword-fight with a pirate and thought: that is everything I'm looking for!
But anyways, I hope you enjoyed and, if you did or have any questions/comments/concerns, make sure to review! Your feedback is what got me through this past year and it honestly makes my day to see people invested in my work. So thanks for reading and ciao for now!