Hey there. Hope the wait for this was worth it :) The rating for this fic is going to start to make more sense after this (though by no means is that all that's coming).
Ahem. Enjoy!
CHAPTER FOUR
"Miss Kyle, we've been expecting you." Alfred stepped aside, ushering her in regally.
Selina frowned, checking the time on her phone as she removed her boots. The marble floor was warm and toasty under her thick woolen socks. "It's hours yet before go-time."
"Indeed," the butler replied as their steps echoed around them. In the distance, Selina could hear the faint strains of an unfamiliar classical piece come to an end. She supposed Bruce knew she'd arrived, via security cameras peppered around the property. "We'll be using the hours to prepare for the evening's work. Ah, that reminds me. Lucius sent over your new goggles but regrets to inform us that the new suit requires fine-tuning."
"That's fine," Selina replied. "I'd rather test it anyway before using it."
They'd arrived at the office, the sudden quiet within a stark contrast to mere moments before. Alfred knocked. "Master Bruce, Miss Kyle has arrived."
Bruce's voice came from within. "Come in."
They did. Bruce was at his desk, his back to them, wearing joggings and a sweat-soaked shirt. It clung to his frame as he straightened, turning. He held something gingerly in his hand, holding it out at her as she entered.
Selina approached, frowning. For the past week he'd been teaching her some basic martial arts techniques and she'd also used some of the equipment to stretch and tone her body. And run. It was nice to just empty her mind and let her feet guide her heartbeat. But Bruce had never gone to his office afterward without a shower and a fresh change of pressed clothes.
Up close, she saw sweat beading from his hairline. Heat radiated off him, the musk of exertion strong in the air. His breathing was laboured, as though he'd literally just gone through a punishing workout.
She took the object he offered. "Your new goggles," he explained. "Excuse me. I'll be back in a few minutes. You should get dressed." And with that, he eclipsed himself, using his damp t-shirt as a makeshift face towel.
"Hello to you, too," Selina muttered after his retreating back. Shaking her head, she slipped on the goggles, trying the heat detection and magnification features Lucius had packed into the gadget. With a satisfied nod, she noted that the goggles retracted onto her head like a headband, yet was tight enough to not slip off. "I like these. Very nice," she murmured to Alfred as she walked out herself, heading towards the bedroom he'd assigned to her earlier during the week.
It was Bruce's old bedroom. Or, at least, his bedroom before the explosion years ago. Now he occupied his parents' old suite, or its old location to be precise. Before the explosion, before his parents' belongings blew up with the rest of the house, he and Alfred had kept that room untouched, like a time capsule. She'd sneaked a look in once when no one was looking, and it had been such a… melancholy room. She'd felt like an intruder, which wasn't so far off - a memory intruder. Feeling sad and remorseful, she hadn't told them about it. And Bruce had never brought her in himself.
Selina thought of how it must feel strange to inhabit the same space his parents had many years ago. It wasn't the same room, structure, construction or fillings, but she thought there must be something in the back of the head that must make inhabiting the space strange.
Passing his closed door, Selina heard running water. She slipped into her 'own' room, tugging her shoulder bag off as she slid the door closed. From the bag she produced a clingy number that she'd worn maybe once before.
"Shit." The zipper had caught in some of the bead work in her bag. Tugging the zipper might tear the delicate beads off. "Alfred?" she called, cursing again.
Moments later, the trusty butler pushed her door open a sliver, allowing her some privacy. "Everything all right?"
Selina sighed, punching the bed in frustration. "My dress is kaput. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have brought it in my bag."
"Lucky for you, Miss Kyle, I took it upon myself to gather some numbers seeing as Gotham's elite will be seeing you increasingly. Are you presentable?"
She shrugged at herself in the mirror. "Yes?"
Alfred's mug appeared in the door. He gestured to the floor-to-ceiling mirrored sliding doors that she knew contained a small walk-in wardrobe. "If you will…"
Selina slid the mirrors aside with trepidation, unsure what she'd find inside. Her breath hitched as the sight of the row of satin, lace, brocade, thule, fur and more on one wall and delicate shoes, slippers, jewels and hair accessories on the other. "Jesus..."
He smiled wistfully, moving in to stand by the mirrors. "Some of it was in storage. I'm not sure it will all fit, but I thought better it not collect dust forever." Bruce's mother, she thought to herself." Anything pique your interest, then?"
Some of the dresses seemed fit for a queen, the lace work exquisite, the brocade impeccable and the satin like butter. Selina didn't think she'd ever feel fully comfortable wearing them, but could appreciate the artistry and society appeal. As her hand slid over them, her eyes rested on a simpler, long dark purple satin dress. Drawing it out of the wardrobe, she laid it against her chest and stared at herself in the sliding door's mirror.
It was cut in a maxi style, with buttery soft pleating on the chest and a subtle slit up one leg, cinched by a long dangling length at the waist. Considering the season, she'd definitely want something to cover her shoulders, but this was… beautiful.
"What do you think?"
"Try it on," came from the doorway, not from Alfred.
Jolting, Selina's eyes bolted to Bruce standing just outside her room in dress slacks and a half buttoned shirt. His damp, dark hair glistened in the afternoon light. But it was his eyes that drew her attention. They were shuttered, melancholy almost.
Alfred cleared his throat. "An elegant choice, Miss Kyle. Indeed, please try it on." He nearly mowed Bruce on his way out, shutting the door firmly behind them to give her privacy.
Alone with the dress, Selina frowned, then shrugged off her misgivings. She made quick work of undressing herself, then slipped on the soft fabric, liking the way it whispered and felt on her. Oftentimes, when she attended highbrow events, she felt restricted by her dresses, like she might tear it if she sat wrong. This one was airy and comfortable, no-nonsense, although she'd need help with the zipper.
Going into the wardrobe she selected a pair of matching heels - after all, Bruce towered over her - and then hovered over the jewelry display.
She'd brought a statement choker to go with her original dress, but though this style of dress might require… more reserve. She selected a delicate pearl pendant and its matching earrings, bringing the box with her out of the wardrobe.
"I… I'm ready," she called out, putting the box on the bed and bending to put on her shoes.
They walked in, Bruce with his shirt fully buttoned and Alfred with his scrutinizing eyes. Selina stood, her arms agog, and twirled a little, uncomfortably, feeling strange under their eyes.
Alfred moved in to zip her up, then tugged here and there. "I'll be be right back," he said, then disappeared from her room, mumbling to himself.
Bruce remained, leaning against the jamb. "It's a good pick," he said from the distance, then nodded at the box on the bed. "May I?"
She nodded, a slight duck of her head. "I don't really know what's considered fashionable in gentle society…"
"You're doing well so far," he murmured from behind her, reaching out for the box. She heard it pop open, and then his hand passed over her head, the cool chain touching her throat, the pearl pendant coming to rest between the swells of her breasts. "Turn," he murmured again, backing up a little.
Selina did, facing the mirror with her heart knocking in her throat.
"It was my mother's," he said softly. "The dress. The necklace. She wore this once in Switzerland, at a summer fête."
She met his eyes in the mirror as he reached out, wistfully grazing the fabric at her shoulders. Pain marred his brow fleetingly, then she blinked and his face was impassive once more.
"I didn't know."
"I know."
"I can wear something else if you -"
"Nonsense," he said, gazing up at her through the mirror, and smiled woodenly. "You look nice."
"Thanks," Selina breathed, shivering suddenly.
He frowned. "You cold?" As Selina nodded, he walked into her closet with purpose, as though he already knew where everything was. She supposed he did. He came out with a soft cashmere shawl, sliding it across her shoulders. "Here."
Fingering the soft material, Selina inclined her head. "Thanks."
Alfred reappeared at that moment, needle and thread in hand. "Right. Arms out, miss."
#
Selina examined her reflection in the glass-lined bar, tucking a loose lock of hair back into her elegant updo.
"Master Bruce has just arrived," Alfred's voice announced in her ear, momentarily drowning out the gentle orchestra strains behind her. "At your six."
Selina took an idle pull from her bubbly, then inhaled deeply. "Showtime," she murmured to herself, now seeing him emerge into the bathroom of the rich cosmetics tycoon whose birthday party this apparently was. She saw him glance at her briefly to ascertain her location, then shake hands and execute a nice social round with his trusty cane and patented limp.
She'd looked around beforehand and didn't think she recognized anyone from their previous life, when they were… something. But one could never be too certain after ten years. Faces changed.
As a waiter passed by she deposited her empty glass and picked up another one. Liquid courage, as it were. She made her way to a throng, easily lifting a wallet, smirking to herself. At least that would never become difficult.
The plan was for her to do her thing for a while before he 'found' her and they reconnected. It placed her here for onlookers who might know her, for her regular reason: to rob. To hide the fact that she was really here to bump into her erstwhile boyfriend of sorts, so they could publically reconnect and, as adults do, take it somewhere else. Namely, his conveniently-placed penthouse in Victory. So they could then not do as adults do and instead go out for a short mission to place microphones around the perimetre of the division. And then return to his condo, and still not do as adults do. And then act as if they had done as adults do tomorrow morning.
"Happy evening, then," Alfred continued, and she pictured him driving off to the manor in Bruce's car.
Selina scoffed into her glass.
"Selina!"
She whirled, her eyes widening at the woman before her. "Mrs Gordon!"
The woman opposite her laughed. "Please, I'm still Lee."
"I'll be damned," Selina chuckled, and hoped the onslaught of nerves wasn't apparent. "Since when do you attend these things?" She hadn't been there when she'd scanned the room earlier. There wasn't supposed to be anyone from before.
Lee nodded her head at the birthday man, presently guffawing loudly in laughter at something someone said. "Randall and I were in school together. Different branches of natural sciences, obviously, but we had some classes together." She grinned. "I'd ask what you're doing here but I think I know," she said, nodding at her softly bulging delicate handbag. "As long as I'm not one of your hits…"
Selina grimaced teasingly. "Nah, you're too poor."
Well. This was the plan: to dupe people they knew. Funny, now that she knew someone in the room, the plan freaked her out. Now she really had to act, and deceive Lee into believing in their charade.
"Where's Jim?" she stalled.
"With the Strike team, still," Lee replied, and Selina imagined him in the dark streets of Gotham, dealing with unscrupulous gangs and increased crimes. Each night, she thought, Lee must be beside herself with worry that he would be hurt badly, or worse. "He can't really stomach these anyway, considering everything that's going on in the city. Well, me neither, to be honest, but I figured I'd pop in and say hi to Randall before heading back home. Is - oh."
Selina turned. Ah, Lee had just spotted Bruce, his tall frame turned away and towering over the birthday man's as he appeared to impart kind birthday wishes.
"How are you taking it, that he's back?" the doctor asked her softly. "Has he reached out?" Something akin to pity filled her eyes as she gazed back at Selina. "You both seemed so… close at our wedding. I never understood why he left."
Selina sighed, staring at his broad back as he socialized. To anyone, he might have looked at ease, in his element, in this environment. But even from this far she could tell from the subtle stiffness of his shoulders that he'd rather be anywhere else. The cane helped his stiffness look like a result of his 'injury', but she knew better. And as he turned slowly, his eyes finding hers and affecting surprise, she remembered the fluid way he'd moved as he'd trained her the other day.
"You and me both, Lee, you and me both." Biting her lip, Selina decided she might as well plant the seed as she glimpsed him begin his slow, pained way over. "It still hurts, you know. I'm not sure I can forgive him. It's a long time to stay away without a word."
Lee reached out, rubbing her arm sympathetically. "Oh, honey. I know you're hurting. You know, when Jim sent me away, I lost our baby and didn't hear from him for months. It hurt. I thought he didn't care. I felt worthless, empty. It turned out he was fighting his own demons." The doctor shook her head sadly. "Men are strange creatures. They'll go off on a crusade to protect the ones they love even if the cost is their own happiness. Meanwhile, we're left to pick up the pieces they broke, and they have no idea of the damage they inflicted upon us." She sighed, lowering her voice as Bruce seemingly approached. "Selina, I know you both. For what it's worth, I think he's hurting, too. Talk to him," she said quickly.
Bruce clopped over gingerly, seeming unsure of his reception. "Doctor. Selina. Good evening."
Lee lifted her glass in a toast, then glanced encouragingly at Selina. "I should head out. Curfew's soon anyway," she said with a thin-lipped smile. "I'll see you around, I hope."
"Goodnight," they both called, an uncertain silence settling between them as they watched her disappear into the masses.
Selina rearranged her shawl as Bruce hailed a waiter, grabbing a flute of champagne for himself and a glass of water for her. "Anyone else we know?" he asked her quietly.
"No. You?" she replied in kind.
His eyes said no. Not anyone that mattered to making their act seem real.
She released a heavy breath, Lee's words hanging like weights on her. She swallowed, mustering a pleasant smile.
He took a sip, staring at her over the rim of his flute. "You okay?"
"Mhm," she replied radiantly, then stepped in closer, hand on his pressed lapel, turning her face up to him. "Just some girl talk."
"About?"
Selina's smile nearly faltered. "Us." She rubbed a spot on his collar that wasn't dirty, just a diversion. "She thinks we need to talk."
Bruce was silent for a moment, his body unreadable. Then he took her hand in his. "May I have this dance?"
She glanced down, raising a dubious brow. "Can you?"
His eyes crinkled as he replied deadpan. "I may be a cripple, but I'm told I'm spry."
"Indeed," she muttered through the din, unheard.
He led her limping onto the dance floor, his hand warm around hers. Then he twirled her, retracting his cane in the same motion and placing the shorter stick into his pocket. "Come here," he said, still affecting a limp as he swayed them from side to side. He placed her hands where they needed to go and she followed as he led them gently into a small circle.
"This is nice," she said, her initial anxiety over her dancing skills eclipsing as he made it all look effortless. Alfred's last-minute lesson faded away.
"Mhm." She felt the hum vibrate against her, spreading through her body. "How are you?" Selina glanced up, frowning. "Just talking."
"I'm well," she answered questioningly.
He swept them into a larger circle, his eyes seeming to search hers. "It's been a while."
A chance encounter, Alfred had said. Selina heaved a slow breath out. "So it has. Ten years, more or less."
Something unspoken flickered into his eyes. He twirled her away to hide whatever hid in them, then gathered her back again. "So it has," he grated. "It felt like longer, to be honest."
Yes, it did, she thought to herself with a tug of her chest, and then brushed away the emotion to focus on their task, tonight, the mission. "So… what next?" she asked quietly.
Wordlessly, slowly, he pulled her in closer, fusing their bodies. Selina's skin tingled as he bowed his head into her neck, his breath puffing against the fine hairs at her nape. "Now this," he said, his lips caressing the skin beneath her ear once.
Her gasp was absorbed into the din. He continued swaying them over the dance floor, his hand traveling higher up her back to press her in as his thumb traced a lazy half-circle under her shawl across her bare skin, his palm flat and warm. Selina's fingers dug of their own volition into his nape, unwittingly pulling his head closer. His breath fanned her skin, her hair, as he brushed it back, his lips grazing against her cheek now.
Suddenly he pulled back, his thumb seeming to erase the spot he'd just kissed, and he stopped moving altogether. Selina felt bereft without his warmth. She blinked. "What?"" she whispered.
He cleared his throat, inhaling slowly. "We need to get going soon."
"Okay," Selina murmured, steeling herself. "Okay."
They'd gone over the plan several times over the week. They needed a very public display of affection to help propel the idea that they'd now be an item. Each time she'd made non-committal noises then. Now she couldn't escape it.
Bruce leaned in, her world narrowing as he slowly closed the space between them. "I'm sorry, Selina," he murmured, then captured her lips sleepily with his own before she could snap out of… whatever this was and think up a stingy retort. But a rush of dizziness drowned her thoughts in that moment, the surging flush leaving her warm and him the only solid thing she could cling to.
This was not one of their early stolen pecks or, later on, their sweet light teenager kisses. The former had been childishly daring, the latter… lovely. This, however, was a fervent recognition.
Selina tasted champagne on his mouth. He was still stroking her cheek; his lips were soft, molding onto her own in a gentle pressure that ignited private breezy-curtain memories. Her heart in her throat, she broke away, taking in a gulp of air. She felt as if her whole body were tied down by invisible strings, sucking her ever deeper into a void made of… him.
Bruce's lips ghosted over her temple, torturing her further. She held back a shudder that could have turned into a sob if she'd let it free. Biting her lip, she bowed her head, staring at his lapels to ground herself. But it was short lived. His thumb soon nudged her chin up, forcing her to look up into his own eyes for a moment, a fragile, unspoken thing passing between them. A tremor ran down his throat as he swallowed, though he wordlessly pulled her in for another kiss, this time deeper than the last. Selina could feel the blood pulsing in her veins, in his chest, too, and parted her lips, pulling on him, drinking him in.
The music faded to a stop, but he still swayed them. Eventually, though, the sound of a shutter broke the spell. Selina gazed around, suddenly remembering where she was, and shuddered a breath in. She felt cold suddenly, even as he pulled her in against him once more. "Can I invite you over for a nightcap?" he asked suavely against the backdrop of gossiping whispers.
Closing her eyes, Selina knew what to say, but wished she didn't have to. Artifice. All of it, for this one damned moment. Yet she softened her features, breaking out a radiant smile. "I'd love to," she replied. And hated herself, for how she'd allowed herself to be affected by a lie they'd been spinning.
"Follow me," he said with a false grin of his own as he pulled away. His cane reappeared, and he tucked her into his side, ignoring the inquisitive matrons and the gushing beauties as they made their way out of the ballroom, to the coat check station, and soon outdoors into the harsh cold where a sleek grey Bentley awaited.
"Goodnight, sir, ma'am," the valet said, handing Bruce the keys to his car.
As Selina got in, Bruce tipped the boy and quipped, "Oh, it will be. I've got the prettiest girl coming home with me."
Selina laughed, dying inside, as he sat in. "Let's get out of here," she exclaimed, resting her hand on his thigh. He covered it, squeezed, and then they roared out into the night.
#
"Are you okay?" he asked a minute later, glancing sideways through a stop.
Selina stared out the window at the well-lit downtown Victory street, the glittering boutiques, the tall business towers. Everything had lustre, a well-manicured appearance. She gazed at her reflection, reaching up to take her earrings off, and stared at them in her hand. "Must have been weird, lusting after your mother," she muttered after a moment, stuffing them into her handbag.
"Excuse me?"
She gestured at herself. "The dress. The jewels."
He coughed out a rough chuckle. "You look nothing like my mother, I assure you."
She knew. "I don't know whether to take that as an insult or as a compliment."
"Selina…" He sighed, fishing out a flesh-coloured object from his pant pocket, and slid it into his ear. She heard a click, then his voice in double, both in her ear and nearby. "Alfred, we're on our way to the penthouse. Is everything ready?"
Alfred's voice answered in her ear, too. "Your suits are in the vault. Don't forget to dim the lights and pull the screens closed. How was your performance at the gala?"
Bruce glanced at her uneasily, hesitant.
Rolling her eyes, Selina clicked her mic on. "We probably made page 6," she replied succinctly, burrowing deeper into her seat.
"Excellent," the butler replied. "Ah, before I forget, the devices you'll need to plant tonight are strapped to your utility belts for easy access. I'll be on standby until you're ready for the next leg. I need tea."
"All right, we'll be in touch soon." He clicked off his device, fishing it out and placing it back in his pant pocket again. "We're here," he murmured for her benefit as they approached a sleek skyscraper, a garage door opening on their left. He slowed, turning in and driving a short distance to a parking spot assigned to 'Wayne'. "There's CCTV all the way up to the penthouse," he said quietly as he maneuvered into the spot and then cut the engine. His palm came to rest gently onto her knee. "Ready?"
"I'm fine," she grunted, popping her car door open. A brisk garage breeze met her skin, and she shivered under her pantyhose. "It's freezing!" she exclaimed in-character, laughing all the way to the elevator bay. Locked. "Hurry up!"
He caught up, embracing her with a quick smiling peck, and then punched in the code to let them in. She called the elevators, hopping between his arms, and affected a giggle when his cold nose nuzzled her neck, burrowing playfully into her skin. "Eeek! Bruce, don't!" God, she sounded so stupid.
"Camera in the elevator," he murmured as finally, finally the elevator dinged its presence. "Don't know who's watching." They piled in, Bruce punching his floor and key code offhandedly while pinning her to the wall.
Playing the role till the end, she found his mouth.
Lip nip. Tousled hair. Button pop. Heavy breaths. Clavicle kiss. Flip. Ding. Top floor.
"Keep going," he rasped into her ear as he undid the thick barrette holding her hair up, and they piled out into his condo. "Windows."
She released him, his hair sticking out where she'd had her hands, and backed away further into the entrance with a lazy swing in her hips. As she removed her shoes and dropped her handbag on a small console, she let out a soft moan, appreciating the warmth of the marble flooring under her toes. Bruce, entranced, disheveled, watched her with hooded eyes from the vestibule, immobile. She shimmied out of her coat, letting it drop to her feet, and then turned, pushing her now-loose mass of curls over one shoulder, the invitation in her eyes clear.
Bruce limped over, nuzzling her neck as he lowered the tab of the zipper down her back, exposing creamy flesh beneath the fabric.
"Sorry," he whispered, his warm hands brushing at her waist, dragging the satin down to pool at her feet.
Standing in her lacy underwear in his fully windowed living room, Selina twirled around and then stepped out. "Bedroom," she whispered, her fingers lightly dancing over the dusting of hair on his partly exposed chest. Her skin crawled at the idea that someone might be watching her make a complete slut of herself for a man who seriously fucked her up. But, all in a day's work, she supposed.
"Hang on." Bruce pulled away, pressing buttons on a wall display nearby. The lights began dimming, an opaque screen lowering over the windows. "Same for the bedroom," he murmured when he limped back, tugging her toward a large windowed room with a large bed overlooking the city.
Her breath caught. A fire raged somewhere below, a plume of smoke highlighted by its brazier. Elsewhere she spied flashing police red-and-blues. But otherwise the streets were dark. Dangerous. Unnaturally so.
Bruce pressed a button on a display by the door, coming at her slowly as the lights dimmed here too, as the screen began obscuring her view.
Selina turned, watching him shrug out of his suit jacket, shirt and tie, the broad expanse of his chest, strong shoulders and thick arms revealed in the warm light. To anyone he would look like his upper body compensated for his crippled leg, but she knew firsthand that both legs were firm and decidedly not infirm.
He released his cane, his heated, flushed gaze blazing into her as she backed into the bed. And then he trapped her underneath him, pants whispering against thin pantyhose. There he stopped, looking up, his breathing laboured, and she understood why when he twisted and sat, his back to her.
The screen was down. No need to act anymore.
Selina sat up shakily, gathering her legs up to her chest, and swallowed around her dry mouth. She heard a great, shuddered exhale as he bent his head into his hands. Their breaths marred the silence, neither one daring to move, it seemed.
Yet finally he spoke, tightly, his scar-peppered back still to her. "We should get ready." But he didn't move an inch, and neither did she.
"Mhm," she hummed absently, the sound shrill to her.
"It was the only way."
"Mhm."
Something in the way she was responding had him twisting around. He caught her gaze silently, holding for several beats.
They'd seen each other in various states of undress before, many times, when they were younger. Innocent times, full of hormones. But this… this had robbed Selina of a part of herself, the one without him, that she'd worked hard to rebuild over the years. And tonight he'd just mowed it all down and left it withered, pulsing weakly.
She swallowed down her precarious rawness and focused. Damn him, getting under her skin like that… knowing her so well he could use her with his eyes closed and play her for a fool. Never again, she admonished herself. People left. Bruce left.
"Selina…" He sighed raggedly, stabbing a hand into his hair, tousling it further.
"I'm fine," she replied tersely. "Where's the vault?"
His eyes held hers a moment, as if gauging her, then he stood, motioning for her to follow him.
He led her out of the bedroom and back into the living room, to a grand piano standing at the end of the foyer. Selina winced as he played three distinct discordant chords. Then, her eyes widened as a large painting groaned to life, opening inward to reveal a room beyond. Bright lights flared to life, momentarily blinding her.
Wall upon wall dressed with all manner of weaponry and gadgetry from around the world greeted her eyes. It reminded her of another time, another place, when she ran a secret weapons dealership with the Sirens for the mobs. But the difference, here, was… one gun. Alfred's, she guessed.
Instead, bat-shaped batarangs, shurikens, retractable staves, daggers, bows and crossbows, grenades of all kinds, and more, lined one wall. Another wall was equipped with all manner of gadgets and locked cases labeled with the Wayne logo. Still another wall was lined with first aid paraphernalia - that explained the table and light in the middle of the room.
And then the last wall. Selina's eyes widened at the display of the Batman suit and, next to it, hers hanging on a hanger with a protective film around it.
She smiled, reaching out for it. Alfred had added microphone devices to her belt, as indicated. And - she nearly laughed - a thermal onesie, too.
"I'll take the vault," Bruce said from behind her. "You go change in the bathroom."
Selina ducked out immediately, hanger in hand. She'd spied an en-suite off his bedroom, so she headed there, wriggling out of her hose on the way. She'd forgotten to bring a change of underwear for the mission - lacy underwear was not made for that sort of thing - but at least the form-fitting onesie would do the job and help keep her warm, hopefully for the entire duration of their mission in subzero temperatures.
She made short work of undressing, ablutions, and then sliding the onesie and suit on. The latter took a little more effort with an extra layer, but she managed zipping it up its front all the way. Slipping on her boots, she gathered her hair into a low ponytail and then cinched her hips with the utility belt, now outfitted with more than her trusty whip.
"No backpack tonight," she mused to herself, not quite sure how she felt about temporarily pausing her thieving habits to join Batman on the straight and narrow. There was something decidedly ironic about that, but… ridding Gotham of Victory was reason enough to join Bruce.
She examined herself in the mirror one last time, the picked up her underwear and left the bedroom. On a whim, she decided to pick up her hose, dress and coat as she went along, piling them on the couch by the covered bay windows.
Ambling over to the piano, she stretched out a hand tentatively, her fingers pressing the beginnings of a tune from long, long ago. Grimacing, she retreated, sitting on the bench with her back to it, and rubbed her hands to her thighs. Sensations still pressed to her fingertips. Cloth, hair, skin...
Bruce walked out, suit on and mask in hand, a strange look on his face, and she straightened with a start. "You know Für Elise?"
"Only that bit," she replied stiffly. "My mom played. She taught me the first few bars when I was five. Then she left. Never really cared to learn the rest." She shrugged, woodenly.
"It's a nice Beethoven piece."
"Mm."
"Ready?"
"Mhm."
At least he didn't seem… unaffected, either, the weight of everything they'd just put on display to whatever eyes would have kept them in their sights a discomfort to him, too. He kept his distance, avoided direct eye contact.
"We'll get out that way," he said without preamble, nodding at the screened bay of windows beyond the sitting space, where a balcony lay. Double-checking that he had everything he needed, he came over, played the same discordant notes from before, and Selina watched as the vault sealed itself behind the floor-to-ceiling painting.
"I never would have guessed," she said quietly, still marveling at it.
"That's the point," he quipped gruffly. Of course he wouldn't have shown her how to get into a vault full of money, though.
"Touché."
He slid his cowl on, inviting her to do the same. "Now remember, Alfred is there to essentially be our eyes and ears, and help triangulate our efforts. Keep the microphone on at all times while we're out there. He needs to know what's going on at all times. And we need to know what's going on with each other in case something goes wrong for either of us - so we can act quickly. And don't forget to call me Batman. Got it?"
Selina nodded, pressing the Alfred button and sliding her new goggles on. "Ten-four."
"Try the features on those now, get familiar," he said, touching a button on the wall display to plunge the room into total darkness.
Selina fiddled with the settings, testing the heat sensor. Bruce's body lit up like a vampire's Christmas tree, highlighted in bright red. She pressed another button on the other side, magnifying his heat signature. "Infrared's functional," she called, turning that off before he flipped the lights back on. She focused on a further object in the living room - a pen on a glass table, and magnified it to the point where she could read 'Mont Blanc' on its paper clip. "And magnification as well," she added, flipping off that setting.
"Delightful," Alfred's voice enthused.
"All right," Bruce said, his voice taking on an authoritative tone stronger than his previous commands. "I'm turning the lights off. Our exit will be masked. Turn on infrared and let's get going."
Selina followed, bracing herself for the crisp night air made even cooler by the altitude and winds. They soon stood at the edge of the building. Selina looked down, buffeted by the winds roaring around them, and then leapt off.
A sense of déjà vu gripped her in that moment as Bruce's… Batman's mouth hung agape as if he'd been about to say something. But then he threw himself without hesitation into the abyss after her, their fall ending a mere ten metres later as they reached the top of a lower part of the tower. She landed in a feline crouch, Batman landing thunderously next to her.
"Graceful," she taunted, before vaulting over the railing, falling into a slide down an incline in the design before diving into the chasm between this building and the next.
In a free fall now, she reached down, grasped her whip, and sent it flogging up into the air. The end wrapped around a spike in the next building's parapet, and as the line began tensing, she balled her body, twisting it upwards at the very last second to kick up, the ricochet sending her hurtling upwards towards her mark. She landed silently, and searched the chasm for Batman's location.
"Above," came his voice in her ear.
There he was. Gliding down with his huge bat wings buffeting his fall. "Cheater." She launched herself as he touched down, not wasting time, and vaulted over onto another rooftop, heading towards the Victory border. They had a long span to cover. "I'll cover near my neighbourhood," she informed the men on the line. "You take the other side. We'll meet in the middle. Cool?"
Alfred chortled uproariously. "I think I'm enjoying someone giving you orders for a change, sir."
Batman's voice sounded dry as hell. "Don't get used to it," he grated to his butler, then replied to her. "That's fine, Cat."
"Ooh, no one's called me that since I was a kid. I don't mind… Bat."
"Bat?"
Selina shrugged to herself in midair. "I dunno. You are dressed like one, no?"
She could imagine the subtle shake of his head. "Whatever floats your boat, Cat," he replied. "Glad you're enjoying the field trip."
Nothing like fresh air, freedom and darkness to feel better and forget life was a hell storm in a shitter. And forget that she'd just...
Now approaching her first border tower, Selina hunkered down, turning the settings on her magnification tool. Heat signatures grew. "Careful, Bat," she whispered. "They don't tend to look inwards into Victory, but they could be massive assholes and surprise us tonight."
"Copy that," he replied, equally quietly.
"The plan is not to engage, innit," Alfred started, "but to plant and retreat."
"Copy that," Selina replied, sliding down to the back of the building for cover and landing with a soft thud. She glanced around the corner, watching for reactions, and scurried around when there was none. Glancing up both lengths of the wall, she hurried across to the other wall when she was sure no one was paying any attention. "I'm just below my first target," she whispered.
A beam protruded from the wall a good six and a half feet above the ground. As she was petite, she'd have to execute a flawless jump to reach it. The crack of her whip would attract unwanted attention.
Flinging herself up, she swung up onto the beam, coming to a squat above it. Listening, she suddenly heard a change in the guards' demeanor, and stood, flattening herself against the wall as one of them came to the edge above her to survey the area she'd just vacated below. Selina saw smoke pluming up into the air, a lazy flick of a cigarette sending ash careening down at her.
"One down," she heard in her ear, wincing, hoping the sound deep in her ear wouldn't carry. "Cat?"
"Standby," she breathed, praying the man above wouldn't hear.
"Copy."
The smoker lingered a moment longer, then tapped the butt several times on the concrete wall, and then moved off.
Selina reached down to her belt, unhooking one of the devices, and stuck it to the underside of the jutting metal railing, directly below the guards' tower. She then swung down, and scurried into cover again, her heart thundering in her ears.
"One down," she gasped.