YES TO THE DRESS

"Oh, baby girl. That's it. That's the one."

"You think?"

With a tailor on bended knee at her side, Helena stands atop a small platform in the center of one of the many private studies of Wayne Manor. Dressed in a silken white gown, she raises her arms to look herself over in the tri-panel, full-length mirrors placed all around her.

"Oh, yes! Definitely the Marchesa."

"But don't you think it's a little... oh, I dunno... showy?"

Not that she thinks she should hide herself away in a tent, but this dress is a bit slinky for her rather shapely figure. Thanks to her mother's good genes, she's always been placed in the fairly well-endowed category. Add in the fact that she's currently pregnant, and her milk jugs are practically overflowing out of the low-cut top to this very high-end piece of fabric.

"What's not to be showy about?" Selina drawls, lounging on the sofa by the fire. "You're the bride and it's your big day. You're supposed to stand out."

Helena laughs.

"I think the belly makes me stand out plenty." She smirks over at her mother. "And besides, half the attendees are fresh off the Mayflower. Any showy-er and we're gonna have a riot on our hands. Plus, it's the dead of winter. I'm totally gonna freeze in this thing."

Yes, it's more than pretty. And yes, it accentuates her growing baby bump well. But something just isn't RIGHT about this gown. It's just not THE ONE.

Maybe it's the fact that it's more her mother's style than her own. Sexy and bold where she's... Well... Maybe she's still trying to find her own style exactly, but she's certainly not her mother. That's for sure. But more than anything, Helena feels it has something to do with the white. The color of virginal purity. Which is a laughing stock at this point in the game, and she's got the twenty-something pounds around her midsection to prove it. But even without the baby in her belly, she's always had a devil on her shoulder. She's always been more sinner than saint. Looking for redemption in all the wrong places. So as for the white? She just can't bring herself to wear it.

If only they made wedding gowns in black leather…

"So what do you think, then? The Dior? What about the Vera Wang?" Selina asks, motioning towards the rack of dresses her daughter's already tried.

Scrunching up her nose, Helena gives the gowns yet another once over.

They're all so very beautiful in their own unique ways. From stark white to bubbly champagne, and all the tones and colors in between. With lace and satin. Silk and tulle. Embroidered and embellished. Lovely and magnificent.

The fact that so many noteworthy designers had taken time out of their very busy schedules to work up samples of their most popular lines. None having been known for ever putting together a selection of maternity dresses before, and yet they've done so all for one very lucky Gotham socialite. And all because she's a Wayne.

"I dunno... I think I like this one."

Helena directs her attention to the modern day victorian style wedding dress in an ivory satin, embelished in antique lace and pearl beadwork throughout. It features a sweetheart neckline, showing off her shoulders and collarbone. But instead of baring her skin completely, conceals her in long sleeves and a turtle-neck of delicate floral lace. A happy compromise. Elegant and modest while only giving a tease of that sinfully delicious milky skin beneath. A very chic approach to an old classic.

The cat places down her glass of Chardonnay and slips back on her strappy heels, happily sitting up from her reclining position.

"I think it's purrfect."

Selina nods her head, and with the slightest flick of her wrist, instructs the tailor waiting by to retrieve the dress and go have it altered to fit Helena's measurements.

"Whatever my little kitten wants, my kitten gets." She purrs with a sense of sensuality and sophistication. "And your father DID give me permission to use his Black Card."

"You mean you stole it."

"No. He GAVE it to me. Cross my heart." Selina defends with a hint of a smirk. "He's really happy for you, Helena. We BOTH are. And we want to make sure this day is extra special for you. So whatever you want, it's yours. I only wish you'd let me spoil you more."

The cat's got a lot of lost time to make up for, and a lot of love to give. Though she's never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, she makes up for it in riches. Always wanting to shower Helena in all the sparkly little baubles and trinkets that she, herself, only ever dreamed of at her age. The kinds of things she had to claw and scratch at to get her sticky paws on. The things she struggled so hard to achieve. Status. Power. Wealth. Love. A mother can't help but want these things for their daughter. That and so much more.

"I know, mom. And thank you. It's just... I don't want you to go crazy with the spending. It's supposed to be an INTIMATE wedding, remember? No press. No paparazzi. No celebrity A-listers..."

"So no Prada?" Selina cuts in teasingly.

"You can wear your Prada if like." Helena giggles. "Though I'm pretty sure you might give a few hormone charged teenaged witch-boys a heart attack or two. Not sure if they've ever even seen a pair of ANKLES before."

The two begin to laugh, sharing in a tender moment between mother and daughter. However estranged as they have been in the past, today is a bonding experience. A true coming together. Without sweat-soaked leather and the wail of police sirens, that is.

"I'm so proud of you, Hel."

Heels clicking to hardwood, Selina bridges the gap between them. Crossing the richly decorated room bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace to hold her daughter tight.

Coming in from behind, she wraps her arms around her in a hug, reminiscing on the days so very long ago when she was small enough to hold in her two arms. Back when Bruce would break from his nightly patrol just to sneak into her apartment to catch sight of Helena sleeping in her crib. There's no question about it, her baby girl is all grown up. It seems like only yesterday she was teaching her how to crack her first safe. Or break her first heart.

"Really. I mean look at you. Getting married. Becoming a mother. You're doing it. You're really doing it."

It's no secret. Friends, families, and the whole solitary vigilante lifestyle have never exactly mixed. Somehow life always becomes a distraction. And distractions can get you hurt or killed. Or worse. Get those you love killed. So the fact that Helena and Klarion are flirting with accomplishing the impossible, it's no small undertaking, to say the least.

"What do you mean?" Helena asks, unsure. "You and dad-"

Selina sighs, stopping her right there.

"Yes, we LOVE each other. We always have and we always will. But marriage? That COMMITMENT? I'm just not sure either of us really have it in us." She replies plainly. Which is rare since nothing the woman ever does is in a word, PLAIN. "I mean, yeah, he's committed alright. But to the city. To his CAUSE. To you... And as for me? Well... I was never really much of a mother, now was I."

Now it's Helena's turn to stop her.

"We've been over this." She begins sternly. "I know you did everything in your power to keep me safe."

"I abandoned you."

"No. You did your best."

How Helena used to blame her mother for everything she's been through. All the hardships and the way she was brought up. It took her a while, but now she finally understands the reasons why Selina did the things she did. How she had to give her up in order for her to have a chance at a better life. How even now she wants the world for her. And even through it all, all the craziness of Gotham City, all the costumes and freaks and all the other crazies out to kill her, her little kitten had somehow, if not miraculously, turned out alright.

Selina's features soften, looking at her daughter with that of so much love.

"You're going to be an amazing mother." She says small and tender.

It's a proud moment for the Catwoman. She'd played the motherly figure to a great many of the less desirable Gotham denizens. From lone protector of the lost souls of the East End, to the unsuspecting leader of the villainous Gotham City Sirens, she'd always been somewhat of a mother hen, or cat in her case. It's just nice to see the fruits of all her labor have actually paid off. That despite how bad her reputation has ever been in the past, somehow she'd actually done good with this one. Her baby's grown up to be one hell of a woman. There's no denying, Helena's the very best of her.

One last heartfelt hug to make the thief and hunter will away the tears, before Selina has to go and blow it.

"If you're not going to let me buy you anything, then at least let me throw you a bridal shower." She purrs with a smirk.

"MoooOOOooom…"

With a long whining groan, it looks like their Hallmark moment has passed.

"I don't need anything. Promise." Helena sighs deeply. "Why don't you go buy yourself a nice new pair of expensive shoes and charge it to dad's card. Say they're for me. I swear I won't tell."

Selina takes the thought into consideration, which doesn't take long before coming to an agreeable consensus.

"Deal. But you're getting a baby shower and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Helena relents with a bit of a smirk. Guess there's nothing she can do to convince that crafty cat otherwise.

"Deal."

Slipping out of the silky, white gown, Helena returns to her normal street clothes. The black on violet makes her feel more comfortable. Like she's finally back in her own skin.

Deciding it's just about time to hit the road, she gives her mother one last heartfelt hug. Selina places her hands around her swollen belly.

"My baby has a baby…" She purrs sweetly before adding, "Anything you need. You know we're always here for you. I'M always here for you."

"I know, mom." Hel returns. "And thanks."

Grabbing her purse, she makes her way out to the limo parked out front waiting for her. Best be getting back to Klarion in New Roanoke before he gives himself an ulcer. She can already hear him whining in her head, badgering why in the world it took her so long to try on dresses. She should have taken Teekl. She shouldn't leave the protection of the village. Don't go wandering off. Stay in sight where he can keep her safe. Bla bla bla bla bla.

"Ughhhh…" She sighs as she eases into the plush leather seats of the idling car.

Helena knows it's all for her own good and that he truly does have her best interests in mind. He loves her. A lot. But sometimes that witch-man can be just a tad bit overprotective at times. Bordering the realm of paranoid, even. Like her father used to be.

He worries too much. Plain and simple. After all, there's nothing to worry about.

Wayne Manor is one of the most impregnable fortresses in all the world. With the Batcave hidden far beneath its surface and a state of the art security system that could put Belle Reve to shame, there's absolutely nothing in all the multiverse that could get or even find her here. And as for the ride? It's a straight shot to Roanoke. Just a few tolls and a bridge. With a bullet-proof exterior, not to mention, locked and loaded with nearly ever non-leathal weapon known to man, it's practically a tank.

What could possibly go wrong?

Yawning, Helena stretches out her arms. Three hours of trying on dresses and cavorting with her mother have really done a number on her. All she looks forward to now is curling up by the fire with a certain furry familiar and settling in for a nice catnap.

That is until her hand scrapes against a folded piece of paper. A note left for her to find. Opening her eyes, she retrieves the oddity beside her, unfolding the thing so she can make out its meaning.

The Huntress' eyes grow wide.

It's not a ransom.

Not a threat.

It's something worse.

Far, FAR worse.

"A riddle…" Helena breathes to herself.

Just then, the partition glass between the driver and cab lowers. Just enough so that Helena can spot a pair of electric green eyes smiling at her from the rearview mirror.

"I am the beginning of the end, the end of every place. I am the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space." A quizzically quirky voice singsongs from behind the wheel, dictating the note aloud. "What am I?"

"Ohhhhh crap…"

Helena lunges for the door, but she's too late. The voice giggles and all at once, all the doors lock with a loud and deafening click.

"BZZZZZT! I'm afraid that answer's incorrect." The driver buzzes manically. "Why, the correct answer would be the letter 'E'. As in-"

"Enigma." Helena finishes.

"CORRECT!"

The engine revs to life, roaring as the tires spin and squeal.

"HEY THERE, MAMA CAT!" Enigma shouts above the commotion. Through the opening of the glass, Helena can see her freaky friend securing a pair of vintage driving goggles across her eyes. "Best buckle up, buttercup! This is gonna be one HELLUVA bumpy ride!"

With a mad cackle, the enigmatic vixen puts the pedal to the metal. Peeling out of the mile-long driveway with her vigilante victim in tow.

"LET'S PAARRRRRTYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"