Author's note: Hey guys, thanks for the wait! This one's longer and, at last, building up to this fic's rating. As Selina says later on in this chapter, "enjoy" :D
CHAPTER FIVE
Daylight penetrated Selina's consciousness with a gradual vividness that made her groan in protest and burrow deeper into the warmth enveloping her. Chancing an eye open, she spied her suit, goggles, belt, and onesie in a pile on the floor, and then an ornate clock between two plush chairs.
Selina blinked fully awake between one moment and the next, lost in this foreign space, until realization set in. As well as her nakedness.
Sitting up and gazing around, she suddenly remembered arriving at Bruce's penthouse after the party, their outdoor activities, and then… She frowned. She'd collapsed shortly after he grappled them to the balcony, shivering.
Selina studied the unmarred space beside her, pulling up a throw at the foot of the bed against her breasts, and wondered where her host was and why she'd slept in his room. Padding over her clothes, she wandered over to the mirrored wall, assuming it would yield a closet. Sliding the panes open, she explored the contents, selecting a grey pajama bottom and top. She slipped them on, appreciating the soft flannel whispering over her bare skin. She did have to cinch the waist tighter, though, and her feet barely peeked out of the longer legs.
Next, she pressed her ear against the closed door, listening for movement outside. Hearing nothing, she pulled and padded out, and instantly found him on a cream sectional by the windows. He lay unmoving under a blanket, except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Just like she remembered, one hand was buried under his pillow, one boxer-clad leg bent at an angle poking out from the blanket. Aeration, he'd once abashedly told her.
He'd moved her pile of gala clothes that she'd put on the couch over to the living room table. His suit, belt, mask and a thin rectangular object sat neatly beside her pile. She assumed the rectangle to be his phone from afar.
Selina's belly grumbled, pulling her out of her observation. Stifling a yawn, stretching, she then waddled sleepily into the kitchen, and squinted into Bruce's refrigerator, feeling as if she'd been hit by high beams on a dark deserted road. Her retinas burning, she blinked rapidly, and then selected the carton of milk, and busied herself around the kitchen to hunt for the rest of her morning necessaries.
Grimacing at the clatter as she poured herself a big bowl of cereal, Selina stared across the open space at Bruce's stirring body. It was a false alarm, though; his breaths evened out again, his brow smoothing out again. She waited a few minutes to let the cereal soak, then sat on the island, legs crossed, and ate absently.
Last night had been a success. Neither of them had been detected or hurt installing the listening devices, although it had taken three hours to do so overall. She'd felt incredibly alive and elated when they'd joined in the middle, but soon the adrenaline rush had worn off and she'd finally felt the cold penetrating through her suit. More than once on the way back she'd slipped and stumbled, her teeth chattering so hard it was a wonder all of Victory hadn't heard their return. Bruce had caught her on a tumble, and he'd finally grappled them to his penthouse, her body wracked with shudders and her vision tunneling.
Her nightly winter jaunts were usually much shorter, though they too required complete focus and often required some type of physical strain. His suit and stamina were evidently superior.
Then again, she mused now, here she was greedily inhaling her meal, and there he was, still sleeping like the dead. Albeit a stretching one, now.
Selina paused with her silver spoon in her mouth, watching with curiosity as Bruce Wayne slowly awakened. She watched as he groggily rubbed a hand down his face while his back bowed under him, and she heard a few sharp cracks as he did so.
Exactly as she remembered.
"Morning, sunshine," she called out quietly, resuming her meal.
Bruce reached out at the table blindly for his phone, blinking as the digital clock stared back at him. He then unlocked the screen, scrolling intently.
Finished, Selina hopped off the island, rinsing her bowl, then made one for him gingerly and went over. Noticing her approach, Bruce sat up, and accepted the bowl she made for him, digging in instantly.
"What's up?" she asked, sitting over his blanket and leaning over to see what he was looking at.
"Nice pajamas," he grunted, then answered her question. "We made page six," he said.
"That's good," she murmured as he speed-dialed a number. It was answered on the second ring. Bruce pressed speakerphone.
"Good morning, Master B," the perpetually hoarse voice of his butler answered. "I trust you slept well? I've just spent a wee bit listening in on our quarries. No bites yet unfortunately."
Selina chuckled as Bruce took that in stoically with a loud crunch. "Does he even sleep?" she whispered.
Alfred heard. "I wasn't out gallivanting all night in the cold, Miss Kyle. Which reminds me, we'll need you to put your new suit through its paces as soon as possible if last night is any indication. Can't have you collapsing again or, worse, catching pneumonia."
Bruce grunted his assent. "We were out too long." His eyes panned to his bedroom. "That suit's not made for extreme weather." He turned to her, mouthing, "You okay?"
Selina cleared her phlegmy throat and nodded, counting her lucky stars. She might end up with a mean cold but so far, so good.
"Well, I'll keep monitoring the streams," Alfred announced. "When you return to the manor we can begin trialing your new suit. In the meantime, Miss Kyle, I recommend a tall glass of orange juice." He paused. "Will that be all, sir?"
"Thanks, Alfred. See you later."
The line clicked, and Bruce set his phone down on the table next to his clothes, crunching in earnest.
Selina cleared her throat. She was about to broach a… delicate subject. "I don't remember crashing your bed," she began slowly. "What… how?"
After the previous night's events leading up to their 'gallivanting', as Alfred had so eloquently put it, Selina wasn't sure what to think. Though she hated the way she'd had to act, she couldn't deny that some part of her had… enjoyed those moments. Wondered if he'd felt that way, too. Yet, the cold-hearted realist in her had hated every minute of the lie. Had hissed at her that of course it was just business. Nothing more.
Bruce paused in the midst of cracking away at the nuggets of müslix that she remembered he liked among his cheerios. The sudden silence was jarring. "I took you into the spa for a few minutes to bring your temperature back up but then you started undressing, so I directed you to the bed. Nothing else."
His tense demeanor belied something she couldn't put her finger on, but she let it slide. Bruce Wayne was a boy scout if nothing else. Hell, she'd slept with him often enough with his hands only where and when she'd wanted them. "Well, thanks for nursing me I guess." She stood, backing away towards the bedroom. "I'm going to take a shower, I feel like a swampy mess."
"There's cold medicine in the cabinet," he called after her around a mouthful.
#
Feeling refreshed after a long, hot shower that left thick condensation on the mirror and walls, Selina stepped out into the bedroom to a pile of fresh clothes waiting for her on the bed. She glared, but then found herself putting on the outfit anyway, liking the deep emerald of the tunic. It matched her eyes, and was long enough to be considered a short dress. She slid on the thick black leggings he'd added to the pile, and then wool socks. She supposed she'd have to wear her 'work' boots. Piling her wet hair into a damp curly bun, she went out, leaning on the door jamb.
"All right, it looks nice," she conceded gruffly at his back as he stood in front of the cityscape, "But I'm not your 'Clean Selina Up' project."
Bruce tore his gaze from his phone and appraised her coolly from afar. He'd put on a shirt and casual trousers while she showered. "I'll pass the message along to Alfred," he replied with a quick twist of his mouth before he lowered his eyes again to his phone.
Selina cocked her head, pushing from the jamb, and ambled over. "Bullshit. Since when does Alfred do anything without your express instructions?" she demanded, calling his bluff.
Brow raised, Bruce lifted his eyes again from his phone and then crossed his arms over his chest. "Since he's had ten years of complete freedom. Perhaps it's gone to his head?" he mused, and Selina's bluster faded. "For what it's worth, it does look nice."
Selina sat on the couch, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. You need a shave," she shot at him.
#
"Ever the talkative one," Selina muttered, rubbing a water stain on her armrest.
They'd just passed the Victory border inspection point, where Bruce had simultaneously planted a possessive palm on her legging-clad thigh and confidently handed over his Victory license between index and middle finger. As the guard had ascertained his identity and then glanced inquisitively over at her, Bruce had rubbed her tense thigh seemingly absently, calming her fight-or-flight instinct while also showcasing a smidge of affection for the guard's benefit.
"Lady have a license?"
With a promise to get her one before their next visit, they were on their way. And Bruce had dropped the boyfriend act, both hands clamped onto the wheel as he weaved through the mess of Gotham's destroyed streets pensively.
At the sound of her irate grunt, he glanced over, furrowing his brow. "Something wrong?"
Selina coughed, clearing phlegm. She shrugged helplessly. "The silence. If I don't engage in a conversation with you, you're just… I dunno, stuck in your head."
His jaw tensed as he shifted gears. "I've spent most of my time alone for the past ten years. Thinking. Or training."
"No kidding." She sighed, resting her head on the cool window.
He glanced over again, his brow still furrowed in confusion, then cleared his throat uneasily. "What would you like to talk about?"
Watching her breaths fog the world beyond the glass, Selina hesitated. For the past week he had been nothing but brooding, barely talking to her unless Alfred was somehow involved, and even then he'd been merely cordial… gentlemanly but detached. He'd avoided looking at her, too. When he'd taught her some martial art techniques his gaze had been unnervingly indirect, almost cold. His tone, cool and collected. And then last night… God, talk about night and day…
She'd never seen him that way. Never felt him do the things he'd done to her. Not even… before, when things had been just so. The strength of what had built inside her last night had felt like it could eventually blow her apart. Yet, he'd disconnected so easily each time, after each act. Meanwhile she'd practically burned throughout their play-acting.
"Last night…" she started, trailing off uneasily.
"We made the news," he grunted, his eyes unwavering from the road, almost steely.
Right. He'd told her that already, earlier. "That's… good. We convinced them we're an item?"
"Mhm."
"Can I ask you something?" Selina asked after a moment of silence as they reached the outskirts of Gotham where ancestral farmland stretched for what seemed like forever.
He maneuvered a slower, more slippery turn. "Of course."
Selina chose her words carefully. "You're always so remote, so closed-off, lately. Except last night. That was…" She let that thought trail off, unwilling to touch it. "Anyway, what was that?"
"What was what?"
Selina sensed tension in him. Rolling her eyes, she turned to face him fully. "Don't play dumb with me," she grunted testily. "You know what I'm talking about."
Bruce's hands tightened infinitesimally on the wheel. One index finger beat a slow tattoo. "I think there's another question you're trying to ask me," he said quietly, slowing down in the middle of nowhere.
"Like what?"
He jerked the car to a stop, put it in park, and then planted his eyes directly on hers, returning her defiant look. Somehow, though, he still managed to look remote. Selina recoiled. "You're wondering about last night. If any of that was me. Correct?" It was asked so blandly, so matter-of-fact, that Selina jerked her gaze away.
"That's not what I -"
He cut her off. "You're beautiful. You must know that, right?"
Anger bubbled up within her. "That is not the way to talk to a woman you coerced into getting half-naked and then nearly dry-fucked for a goddamn recon mission," she growled to the windshield.
"I mean…" He rubbed a hand down his unshaven face, sighing roughly, and grasped the wheel with a death grip again. She thought it might crumple if he applied any more pressure. But then he exhaled, and the tension bled out of him. "To answer your original question," he began again, "my priority is the mission. My life is etched in Gotham. Defined by it. I can't allow myself to lose focus." He sighed. "But… let me ask you something too... Did it feel real?"
Selina stared at her hands, swallowing slowly. "I asked first," she mumbled.
"I answered your question."
Speechless, her eyes clapped back to his, her throat feeling tight as if it were closing up. Yes. No. She didn't know. None of last night made sense.
For a moment he searched her eyes, seeming to read every thought within. Feeling skittish, she turned away, and traced a slowly expanding icy fractal on her window with her nail. "Forget it. I know what your answer is to that one."
"Yeah? What is it?"
Selina rolled her eyes at the frost. "Anything for the mission," she rasped, failing to sound even remotely male, and she coughed, the effort too much for her vocal chords.
His eyes narrowed at her.
And with that, he shifted to drive, brooking no more conversation for the next few minutes.
#
"Good afternoon, Master Bruce, Miss Kyle. Sir, don't forget your engagement with the Arkham board this evening," Alfred announced by way of greeting as soon as they stepped out of the car and into the cool garage. His voice echoed throughout the large expanse.
Bruce muttered an expletive as he checked his watch. "Right. I forgot. Can you lay out a suit for me?"
"Already done, sir. Will Miss Kyle be joining you?"
No, Selina thought. "No," he replied without preamble. "I think it's too early yet." He turned to her. "We can drop you off if you want though."
She shrugged. "Sure." It sure beat walking through the arctic out there.
Bruce marched into the office, grabbing himself a handful of almonds on the fly. He paced a moment, munching, then seemed to make a decision. "Alfred, please get Selina's new suit. I don't have time right now to put it through its paces but I want her to test it tonight." To Selina he said somberly, "Let's go to the gym."
Again with the demands. Bruce wasn't used to being refused, what with the silver spoon and all, Selina mused even as she followed, albeit grudgingly.
"I'm not dressed for this stuff," she grumbled as she entered the fully equipped room, feeling overdressed in her tunic.
"Me neither, and I have to start getting ready soon in any case."
Selina furrowed her brow. "So why are we here?"
"To try your suit."
Selina now glared. How obtuse could he be? "Now, I mean. You don't need to be here when I try it on."
Bruce paused, scratching the back of his head. "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last night. I don't want you to think I would take advantage of you like that."
Selina blinked. "Did you seriously drag me here to say this because you didn't want Alfred to overhear you?"
Eyes narrowed, Bruce crossed his arms. "Selina, be serious."
She chuckled, sitting on his bench press with a little plop. "My God, that's so funny. You, afraid of what your butler'll think of you, his old charge, acting like a rutting primate. That's not how he raised you!" she said, mimicking shock.
"I'm actually more concerned that you don't think I was a cad," he grumbled.
Selina sighed gustily, falling back on the bench to stare at the 300-pound barbell above her. More than twice her weight. She couldn't make the bar shudder even if she tried. "No, Bruce. Forget I said anything in the car. Besides, it takes two to tango, and I agreed to the mission. It wasn't me either. But you've gotten good at acting. Did you train in that too while you were gone?"
Bruce's face suddenly appeared above the barbell, somber. "No. And believe me -"
Alfred burst in, her new suit perfectly folded across his bent arm. "Here we go. Oh, shall I come back?"
Selina shot up to her feet. "Nope." She snatched it, disappearing into the adjoined changing room.
#
The new suit fit like a glove, though the fabric felt different. Breathier, though thicker. More flexible. Interesting.
Selina walked out, mask dangling off her fingers, and threw it at Bruce. He caught it easily as she executed a perfect aerial cartwheel, flic flac, and then came to a feral crouch in front of both men. She shrugged; it didn't feel that different from her old suit. "Nothing's ripped. Feels like skin."
Bruce circled around her thoughtfully, then pulled out his phone, dialing. His eyes still on her, he then spoke. "Fox, hi. The catsuit… yeah, I'm looking at it right now. How bulletproof is it? Hm. Okay, and what's the lowest temperature it can sustain? Good, thanks. I'll be in touch." Click. To Selina he said, "Tonight I want you to go out with the new suit and test how it feels out there. Keep Alfred apprised of any concerns you might have with it."
She straightened. "Okay."
"For now, I want you to do your workout with it on. Now, if you'll excuse us, I need Alfred. We'll be back to drop you off home around 6pm."
Selina waved her fingers. "All right then. Ta."
As they left her to her own devices, Selina turned around and tapped her chin excitedly. "Where to start…"
#
Whip curled at her side, belt secured along her hips, cowl on and goggles in place, Selina traipsed along rooftops aimlessly as the fog rolled in from the Miller River, choking the moon above and the few lit street lamps below. Despite the crisp wind now swaying her as she perched atop a weathered stone gargoyle and stinging the exposed skin of her cheeks, her new suit appeared to fit the bill: she felt positively toasty, warmed by her own body heat.
"Alfred?"
"Yes, Catwoman," the butler's voice rang clear in her ears.
"How much longer? I've been out here for two hours running around and doing backflips and vaults. I have no criticisms."
"I thought I'd never see the -" he began wryly, only for his tone of voice to change in the next moment. "I'm seeing here that the GCPD's searchlight has been -"
Yup, she'd been blinded by it. "Turned on," Selina breathed out, squinting in the darkness at the massive light blasting its infamous bat symbol onto the clouds. It stood out starkly in the night, to summon… She swore. "No, Alfred."
"Miss…" He cleared his throat, sounding torn. "Catwoman… he's presently indisposed."
"I know," Selina replied darkly, knowing even as she crossed her arms in defiance that Alfred couldn't very well see her and therefore the gesture was entirely wasted. "But I'm not him. I'm not some… neighbourhood babysitter… vigilante… whatever, with a death wish."
"On that, Catwoman, we are very much in agreement. He does do this for reasons that verily defy reason, but we both know they are good, eh? But he's… there… and you're here, and with your suit on. Considering he's trusting you with the Victory missions, I wager he'd trust you with this as well. And it's mighty difficult for him to trust anyone, as you well know. Would be easier to pry a nail off his pinky, at that. So, what say you?"
Selina huffed softly. "I'm just a thief…" she argued weakly.
"Pish. I've known you for years, missy, and a simple petty thief you are not. Now go, before Commissioner Gordon loses faith in Batman."
Selina's lips stretched into a wry line. "We can't have that," she shot back dryly.
Dropping down off the gargoyle, Selina glared at the illumined clouds and unfurled her whip. "I'll tell him it was your idea if I end up ruining his stellar reputation," she added as the wind whipped her face.
"I'll be sure to admit the fault in my senile judgment."
#
"Hello there."
"Who -?" Commissioner James Gordon squinted in the darkness, trying to see through the shadows.
Detective Bullock, standing next to him, took one look at Catwoman as she lowered herself into view, and recoiled. "What the hell? Where's Batman?"
She dropped onto the GCPD roof from her upside down dangle, easily landing on her feet. She straightened, slowly stepping closer to them, coiling her whip carefully and then attaching it to her belt when she'd reached them. The men nervously palmed their guns. "Batman is indisposed at the moment," she said, a wonderfully silly idea sprouting in her mind. "Please leave a message after the tone. Meeeow."
"What have you done to him?" Bullock breathed, seemingly in shock.
Perhaps it did sound like she'd had a hand in preventing him from being there. She paused, considering that turn, and then shrugged. "Nothing. He's just busy. Would love to be here and help catch all the bad guys for you, but can't right now."
The cops pulled faces of disbelief. Bullock voiced their twin concern. "And he sent you? A cat burglar?"
Selina leaned against the searchlight's massive base, affecting a moue. "Is that so hard to believe? I'm a lesser evil as far as he's concerned. Told me so himself, as a matter of fact."
Gordon grimaced under her logic. "Eh, I suppose you're right," he said, re-holstering his weapon and nodding at a flabbergasted Bullock, who followed his actions nevertheless.
"Excelled!" Selina exclaimed, clapping her hands once. "So what's the problem, gentlemen?" It felt weird as all get out, but hey, trust and all that, right?
"Well…" the commissioner began, sizing her up hesitantly, "we should probably wait… for him…"
Selina's jaw could have hit the floor. "Are you actually kidding me?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Un-believable. Batman shows up out of nowhere, what, three months ago? And you're gaga thinking he's the god-sent solution to all your problems?"
Shaking her head, Selina closed the space between them, got all up into the older man's face… the fact of a man she'd helped attempt to save Gotham with Bruce many years ago… the face of a man who'd often reluctantly believed in her throughout the years despite all her colossal fuck ups. And she felt personally betrayed.
Gordon didn't flinch, didn't back away at her invasion. He stared her right in the eyes as he answered, "He's the first one who's offered to help in many years."
Ouch, Selina thought to herself.
But then he suckerpunched her further. "Are you prepared to fight for your home, Catwoman?"
Selina stepped back, grinding her molars. "I have been," she growled, and he sized her up again, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Mysterious donations," she grunted for mere answer.
Bullock piped up behind Gordon, surprise evident in his voice. "Oh, the money slipped under people's doors! That's you? Jim, maybe she can -"
But Gordon had seemingly already made up his mind. He extended a case folder toward her, beginning somberly. "We had a string of murders. Single child - boy - finding the mother and father dead in their bed, every single time. Gruesome scenes. Blood everywhere."
"Jesus," Selina breathed, her world narrowing as she gingerly took what he was offering. Dear God. Murders. Orphan boys. What the hell was Bruce thinking… torturing himself? "What about Valeska?" she heard herself ask as though from far away. "Is he -"
"Brain-dead, still. He's been at Arkham under special care ever since he fell into that vat of chemicals at Ace years ago."
Bullock continued. "Batman asked us to look more deeply into it. See if anything stood out. Found traces of the kids' and/or the mothers' blood on the fathers' knuckles. Every time. And…" He swallowed. "Physical abuse. But the kids denied it. Always."
Selina frowned, glancing down to what was in her hands. "Something doesn't add up."
Gordon nodded. "That's what we're thinking."
"Why would they deny it if their fathers are dead? The source of their horrors?" She stared off into the overcast night sky, thinking. "You're missing something."
"Yes, that's what we think," Gordon said. "We haven't been able to find a link between them, though. Since the Cataclysm, everyone tends to fend for themselves. No school. No playing outside. Too dangerous. So how are they connected?"
Still thinking, Selina focused back on him after a moment, and jolted when she realized they were both staring openly at her. "Oh. This is the part where he says don't worry in a silly overdone raspy voice and then disappears, right?"
Both cops did a little double take. Bullock shrugged meekly. "Guess so?"
Selina chuckled. "How rude. Right then." Throwing a salute, she backed away slowly, intending to do as expected.
The wind whooshed and then something heavy landed behind her, making Selina jump out of her skin with a gasp. "Thanks," it said curtly, extending a hand to take the files.
"What. The. Hell!" Selina yelled, punctuating each word with a resounding punch in Batman's armored chest.
Bruce didn't even stumble a bit. He blocked her last punch, lowering her hand but still clasping it, then looked over at the cops staring aghast at them. "Thank you, commissioner, detective. Excuse my tardiness. I was held up." Then he nodded at the folder Selina was holding, and she could almost imagine the stoic, unmoved look that was probably aimed at her under his cowl. "I'll take a look at the new material. Where are the children now?"
As Selina rolled her eyes and handed it over, Gordon replied. "Child Services relocated them to an orphanage in Coventry. The address is in there."
"Turn," Bruce rasped at her softly, nodding at her shoulder bag. She sighed, doing as not-told, felt him place the folder in it, and then heard him unhook something from his belt. The next thing she knew, he'd secured his arm around her, and they suddenly shot up and away, fast.
Before they were too far, Selina heard Harvey yell out dazedly, "Wait, Batman, is she your partner now?"
"Lesser evil!" she yelled back, chortling with laughter against the positively unflappable Batman. As if.
#
Isis hissed at Bruce's presence in her room, and scampered behind a couch. Selina hurried over to the cold fireplace immediately, placing some tinder and fumbling for the matchbox on the mantle. Bruce, maskless, leaned over and handed it over wordlessly.
"Thanks. Poor Isis. She must have been freezing."
"You don't have much wood left," he remarked grimly as she struck the box and then held the small flame aloft near the tinder, willing it to catch. "Just one day, by my calculations."
Selina sighed. Yeah, add that to her to-do list for tomorrow. "I'll find some, somewhere." Wood was becoming a very scarce commodity in the city. She rummaged in her shoulder bag, producing the case folder, and handed it up to him. "Here. Thanks for the lift."
He took it with one gloved hand, and she glanced away quickly. Seeing him without his mask on while he wore the rest of the suit was… weird. It was still strange to reconcile that Bruce freaking Wayne was Batman, but even more so when she saw costume and bare face together. She'd seen him work out, she'd seen him fight when they were younger but… she still couldn't believe that caped vigilantism was part of his world.
Staring at the folder, he sighed. "Bring your things tomorrow. And your cat. I'll have Alfred take you to the manor in the afternoon."
Selina rolled her eyes at the burgeoning fire, still squatting before it. Removing her gloves, she splayed her fingers out near the flames, appreciating the beginnings of its heat. "I like how you command me without asking if that's something I agree to. I mean, I know that's how you operate and I've given you plenty of leeway with our… partnership. But now it's about me. Where I live." She frowned. "And I seem to remember you saying I shouldn't live at the Manor just yet. We shouldn't... rush our relationship."
He leaned on the crumbling marble mantle. "That was before I realized you're about to run out of heat."
"So in you run with your gallant offer of endless resources." She huffed a soft snort, then shook her head. "I can take care of myself, Bruce. Been doing it since I was five."
"I know you can," he replied tactfully. "I'm offering you not to." He cocked his head down at her. "Is it so hard to accept help from a friend?"
Selina sighed, removing her mask and running her hand through her clammy curls. "I'll… think about it," she finally conceded softly.
For all his commands, Bruce knew when to take a rebuff. "All right. Thank you," he said, moving away.
He was about to put his cowl back on when she looked up at him, worrying her lip. "Bruce, those kids…" She shook her head, not really quite believing what she'd gotten herself into tonight. "How do you think the parents died?"
He paused. "I have to follow the evidence," he said after a beat, then, "Good night."
"Wait." Selina stood, suddenly finding herself with his suit bunched up in her clenched fist. As he gazed back, she released his arm, and frowned at her unclenching hand. "I'll move to the Manor, under one condition: I help you on this case, too."
As his entire body seized, Bruce shot her a long considering gaze, and she knew without a doubt that he wasn't going to let her. So she squeezed her eyes shut, and threw in her last card. "I'm an orphan, too," she said quietly. "Or as good as." Abandoned, more precisely, but as good as orphaned, as far as she was concerned. As far as he was concerned, too.
He exhaled, rubbing his clean-shaven jaw, and then looked at her unhappily. "Fine," he grunted. "Good night, Selina." And with that, he tugged on his mask and disappeared out her window.
The flame danced with the gust.
#
Alfred regarded her from his watchful post by the Rover as she exited from the front door of the gutted mansion she'd taken residence in for the past few months. Watchful, because who knew what manner of thug could take a potshot at the SUV that did not belong in this vandalised neighbourhood.
One hand rested on his cane - in his case, not just an accessory, but the result of a very real knee injury many years ago in the line of duty defending his then much younger charge. The other rested on the concealed gun holster beneath his pressed wool overcoat.
Despite the prim and proper appearance, Selina knew Alfred Pennyworth was not one to be trifled with.
"Will that be all, Miss Kyle?" he presently asked her as she lugged a bag brimming with cash, jewelry and other knickknacks in one hand and her cat Isis snuggled in the other. He seemed to take the feline's advance with clear trepidation, as one would a far larger feline.
"Pretty much, yeah. I left the glitzy clothes behind since my closet at the manor's already full." Dumping the bag in the trunk along with some of her other belongings - potted bamboo shoots, a laptop, and Isis's scratching tree among them - she then turned around with Isis now nestled contentedly in both arms, and stared at her former home with its boarded up bedroom window.
She'd come a long way, she thought to herself, suddenly sad. From hidden nooks in restaurant kitchens to basements to condemned apartments and finally, finally, to a busted-up art deco mansion.
"Indeed," the butler replied. "It is not the material that defines us, but the journey," he said enigmatically. "Innit?"
Selina nodded slowly. "That's right." Looking up at her former home, she shrugged and turned away. "In any case, it's only for a few weeks. The manor, that is," she said, slamming the trunk closed and heading to the front passenger door. "I don't belong there."
"Of course, Miss Kyle," he said softly as she slid in.
#
Isis took up her post at the windowsill after a way exploration of her upgraded living quarters, complete with heated floors.
"One huge litter just for you out there," Selina told her with a gentle head pat as she installed the scratching tree near the balcony door, squatting to bring her head level with her friend's. "But do not scratch the walls or drapes - Alfred already doesn't seem to like you."
"He's just not used to cats," Bruce's deep voice offered from his lean at her open door. Selina whirled to face him. "Settling in all right?"
She shrugged, looking around her few belongings in their various new locations around the room, which still looked sparse. "I don't own much."
Bruce nodded slowly. "Well, whatever you need, don't hesitate." He pushed off, intent on leaving her to her things, then paused. "Ah, by the way, thanks for last night. Showing up at the searchlight. You didn't have to."
She snorted, rubbing the good spot behind Isis's ears that made her purr like a well-oiled engine. "A certain butler of yours played the 'you're available' card." She straightened now, and leveled him with a curious gaze. "How'd you get out of that… what was it, fundraiser?"
"Investor meeting," he corrected easily, leaning back on her door frame. "I didn't. It ended around the time they lit the sign. So I went to the penthouse to change, and heard you on comms. I liked the… um… voicemail message." His eyes crinkled at the corners.
Batman is indisposed at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone. Meeow.
"Oh," she chuckled. "Yeah, that was fun."
His eyes cut away, in a clearly uncomfortable move. "So," he began. "The deal…"
Selina crossed her arms, wondering whether he'd now tell her, after she'd up and moved in, that No thanks, I'm doing this on my own. Typical Bruce. "The deal…" she prompted, a bit testily.
He cleared his throat. "If you're done here, I'll fill you in."
She practically skipped past him. "I'm done here!"
#
"I've got something for you," Bruce announced as they entered the study. He grabbed a plasticized rectangle off the desk and presented it to her.
Selina squinted, taking it gingerly from his fingers. "Oh. A Victory licence. Mine?"
"Mhm," he hummed. "Alfred called in a favour yesterday with someone he knows from his MI5 days."
Selina eyed the thing with more interest. "So it's a fake ID… my, my, Bruce. Not so straight and narrow after all."
"Actually," he countered, "it's a genuine. His contact just… expedited the process."
She explored it some more with interest, something within her sad about the whole thing somehow. "So I'm a bona fide socialite now. No need to sneak in anymore." It'd been so fun.
"That's right."
She turned it over, making a moue. "Boring," she shot pointedly, nevertheless slipping it into her pant pocket. "Anyway, thanks, but I didn't come here for that." Moving next to him, she leaned in over the case files strewn all over his desk, her eyes drawn to gory pictures clipped to each individual child's file.
"Right. Of course." He gathered them into the folder and then threw the latter onto the coffee table in the sitting area. He dropped into a settee, nodding at the opposite one. "Tomorrow I want us to go to the orphanage as -"
"Oh." Realisation set in.
"Yeah. I want a tour of the place not as Bruce Wayne, potential investor -"
Selina bristled. "Are you investing?"
"- but as a couple interested in adopting... And yes, sure. If I see the place is run well."
"How should I look?" she asked. "Actually, how will you look?" Because Bruce Wayne's face was frequently in the papers lately. He rubbed his chin at her question, and suddenly she noticed that he seemed to not have shaved in a few days. "Don't shave," she decided suddenly, prompting an arch of his brow. "And I'll… straighten my hair. Add a headband or something. And you… should wear glasses. And…" She stretched out her left hand in front of her, pausing, and licked her lips uneasily. "And they'll never accept to see an unmarried couple for adoption."
He thumbed his ring finger thoughtfully for a moment, his face hidden from her, then stood up. "I'll be right back."
Selina watched him walk out, his face a hard mask, and something unknown clenched in her.
When he walked back into the study, Selina's breath caught in her throat. He was holding a small black velvet box in his hand, and he slowly sat back where he'd sat before. He laid the box down carefully in the middle of the table, next to the case folder, and inhaled deeply before sitting back, his eyes glued to the box as if it held something dangerous.
"Bruce," Selina whispered. She knew. She knew exactly what was in the box, without having ever seen its contents beforehand, and she wanted to die. "Is that…?"
"Open it," he exhaled, and now he cut his gaze away, at nothing in particular, his jaw tensing by the second.
"Fuck," she breathed, reaching out gingerly. She took the box, noting the subtle discomfiture evident in his profile as she popped the lid.
She glanced down. And hated that she was right. "Bruce… I can't."
Twin rings winked back at her, identical except for one with minuscule diamonds inlaid into the band. Martha Wayne's. And the other, Thomas Wayne's. His parents' rings. She dropped the box as if it was molten. But it was. With blood and tears.
A steely resolve bled into his eyes as he gazed back at her. "We will."
Selina breathed in a held, her heartbeat soon beating in her ears. The last time she'd seen this ring, it had been on Martha Wayne's finger as she fell to her death in Crime Alley. Before, she'd admired the delicate band from afar as Bruce's father placed a light kiss on her hand clasped tenderly in his. A stolen moment, quite literally. Before her screams had wracked the disgusting back alley they never should have walked through in the first place.
She hadn't even wanted to rob them, to be honest. She'd just stolen a look at a happy, healthy family laughing about a silly, badly-acted classic movie. A happy mother looking down with pride at her smart, precocious son. She'd clutched her one remaining belonging of her mother, the locket she'd been wearing around her neck since her mother had abandoned her, and she'd wished so damn hard she could have what this boy had. Happiness. Family. Love.
And then all that was gone in an instant. And she'd watched, shocked into inaction, through it all.
Before her sat the still-broken boy whose perfect life she'd watched shatter and bleed around him.
"This is so wrong," she breathed shakily, lifting her eyes to his dark, cloudy ones. "You can't be serious."
He reached out, grasped his father's ring, stared at it for a moment in his palm, and then gripped it in his fist with finality. Selina watched him stand with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Don't stay up late," he rasped out, nodding pointedly at the files before her. "We're leaving at 8 sharp tomorrow morning."
As he left, Selina looked back at the band cradled in the black velvet case again, and sighed, raking her lip with her teeth. "Fuck."
Alfred chose this exact moment to walk in. "Oh, my apologies. I thought Master Bruce was here."
"He was."
"And where might he - oh, bloody hell, what's this about then?"
Selina didn't have to glance at the old butler to know where his eyes had just landed. Just like she knew his whole passive disposition had undeniably altered between one moment and the next. Selina licked her lips, wondering how best to put it. "Well, we're going to St. Mary's Orphanage tomorrow. I'll be his wife. Then he did this," she finished, gesturing weakly at the box.
His nostrils flared with something close to emotion. "I see."
#
Selina later passed by the gym on her way back to her bedroom to find Bruce pummeling and kicking away on a punching bag. She had no idea how long he'd been at it, but from the thick, long V of sweat down his back… it had been a while. Through the door she could hear his laboured grunts with each harsh landing hit, and she could see the perspiration glowing from his bare arms and face. Droplets flew from his matted hair, arcing from where wild fury seemed to drive him.
On the windowsill, next to a folded towel and water bottle, metal winked under the bright bay lights. Sighing, Selina pushed the glass door open and entered the air conditioned room, clearing her throat when the pummeling didn't abate.
Now it did, though.
Whirling, Bruce breathed noisily as though he were hyperventilating, furor bleeding from his eyes at her sight, replaced by a strange emptiness.
"Hey," she said softly, the sound carrying to him, and burrowed her hands in the belly pocket of the hoodie she wore.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, reaching for his water and taking a gulp.
Selina wandered in slowly, her hand hovering over the various equipment it encountered as she passed. "I was heading to bed after looking at the case files." She hopped up on the sill when she reached it, crossing her legs Indian style under her. The smell of sweat and the halo of heat hit her instantly. She stared as he stretched in, grasping his towel to uselessly mop his face and neck. The silence was deafening. But mostly the fact that he didn't dare look at the golden band sitting right next to her. "Bruce," she began carefully, "we don't have to -"
"They're just rings," he gritted out instantly.
Selina shook her head sadly. "You've always been a shitty liar, Bruce Wayne. You can't even look at it," she admonished softly, fishing out the small band sitting in her pocket. She twirled it in her fingers, catching light. She then looked up as he wordlessly turned around, bowing his head. "Hey," she called, sliding off the sill. Approaching him, she touched his arm gently, the dark hairs rising under the pads of her fingers. When he didn't withdraw, she moved to stand before him, searching his downcast eyes. "Talk to me."
For a long moment she thought he'd leave regardless. But then he cleared his throat and punched the nearby hanging bag weakly. "I had them sent to storage after they died. When I came back, it was the only thing I had left of them. They're a reminder of why I get out there at night, why I vowed to avenge their deaths."
Selina ran her hand soothingly along his arm. "Bruce, you said it yourself… They're just rings. They can break. They can be lost. They can tarnish. But memories… they'll be with you wherever you go, always," she said, brushing a stray droplet from his temple. She thought of her mother's pendant that she used to wear when she was younger, how she'd ultimately stopped wearing it and then pawned it when she'd realized the only good it would bring her was cash, despite the good memories that it had brought her… but in the end, the memories, love and betrayal, would never leave her. "It's what's inside that matters." She pressed a hand on his brow, wiping it too.
A different kind of sorrow flitted into his eyes as he now gazed frankly at her. She felt it travel down to her toes, a palpable wrench seizing her as he did. Slowly, slowly, he cupped her cheek, tipping her head up to his level, and then captured her lips with his. He brushed across them once, twice, slowly, so slowly, until she caught his lip too. Comfort, she thought to herself. It's just comfort. She pulled away, studying him as he brushed a lock away from her face.
"I'm sorry," he sighed on a grimace as his hand fell away.
Selina stepped back, bumping against the sill. "Stop saying that."
"No. You need to hear it."
Cutting her head sideways, she grunted back, "I don't."
Bruce's upper body stretched taut as he reached out for the rings. As Selina stared down at his palm, the rings lay between them, shadows of a broken happy life. He began stroking his thumb against his mother's ring thoughtfully, then spoke so softly she felt cocooned by his voice. "I watched my parents get gunned down in front of me. I watched you dying. Alfred, broken. And so many more nearly died, or did die, because of me. My name. Everything my parents accomplished, destroyed within seconds. I convinced myself then that I couldn't be here anymore if I wanted to protect those I cared about. If I wanted to protect the city. Because I was weak. So I came back stronger, but it's… worse. It feels like it's never-ending. And you…"
"Stop," she whispered, knowing exactly what he was about to say. To do.
He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. His breath fanned her cheeks, raising minute goosebumps where it touched. "I'm sorry. I hurt you."
Selina had vowed never to revisit that night when she watched his plane tear into the skies. But now here it was, dug up and laid out in all its ugliness. And she hated the pain that bubbled up again within her to the surface. The confusion. The loss.
Despite herself, Selina found her eyes drifting closed, her breaths matching those fluttering against her skin, her fingers threading with his. His hands were warm, powerful but gentle, as his thumb began absently ghosting over her ring finger. She exhaled tremulously into him as he sought her mouth again, memories surfacing.
Meeting him. Teaching him. Arguing. Hurting him. Helping him. Kisses. Fighting. Sleeping. Mornings. Always, always a presence in her life. Always, always a certainty. Until he wasn't.
Her life had been practically defined by his, by the murder of his parents but also by all the choices she'd made along the way. She'd stuck through, though... stayed by the boy with the lonely eyes, and had made decisions that had brought him more and more into her life, and vice-versa. She'd felt like she… belonged.
I wanted you. The thought exploded from her chest as she laced her tongue with his. Soft, so soft. Always so unlike her life.
She'd known somehow that he would leave. But nothing had hurt as badly as him actually leaving without saying a word.
"I would have given you the world…" he said, and slid his mother's ring slowly onto her finger, grasping her hand tightly within his own afterward.
Biting her lip, Selina pushed away, her hand dangling between them. "But then you left me with a letter," she accused weakly.
"I had to," he murmured, still holding on. "Or else I would have stayed."
"Was that such a horrible prospect?"
His eyes hardened as he released her hand, stepping sideways to sit next to her and glare at the floor. "You can't have both happiness and the truth," he began, seeming to quote something, though she couldn't fathom what. "You have to choose. I beg of you, my son, please choose happiness."
Selina's eyes widened in acknowledgment. His father must have written him before passing.
"Unless… Unless you feel a calling. A true calling." Bruce's eyes cleared, though the hardness remained, seeming to set. "After everything, after No Man's Land, Selina, I felt it. My calling. For years, I honed it."
She swallowed. Hugged herself. "And now?" she asked quietly.
At some point he'd slid on his father's ring. Now he steepled his hands as he leaned forward on his thighs, unmoving but for the pulse beating at his neck. "Now I wonder what happiness is. If my father wasn't wrong."
Selina hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. She pushed off and blew out a long whoosh as she paced away, coming to a lean against a treadmill. There she stared at him wordlessly, unable to form coherent thoughts.
He'd followed her movements with tortured, stormy eyes. "If I deserve it," he continued. The golden band on his left hand twinkled at her with the help of the strong overhead lights. It looked so foreign on him.
On her. I would have given you the world.
Instinct took over. Selina advanced on him, her reflection thrown back at her vividly in the backdrop of Bruce straightening from his hunch in puzzlement. His eyes darkened then at something he saw within her own, and he accepted the press of her body between his legs. She claimed his mouth, reveling in his tongue again and in his grunt as she buried her hands into his warm, damp hair.
Selina felt a weightlessness crawl up her body, all the way to her fingertips. She remembered, clearly, the touch of Bruce's lips against hers and the textures of his skin and hair beneath her fingertips. Only infinitesimally different. The muscular firmness she encountered beneath his shirt and against her hips however was astoundingly unlike her ten-year-old memory of him.
Their Victory act the other night had felt mechanical, clinical. The right meeting, the right amount of kissing, the right amount of pseudo lust-fueled urgency, the right sway in her hips as she stripped, the right relationship. The oldest dance in the world, pantomimed. Rehearsed, though it hadn't been. It had been…
So confusing.
"The other night," he breathed between hot presses of his mouth. "Was it real for you?" he asked, seeming to read her mind.
She knew that despite the strings attached, besides the voyeuristic means to the end, she'd felt… safe with him. Protected. She'd trusted him not to take advantage of her. She'd known inherently that he would never have dared. As much as he'd changed physically, and the sheer power he now commanded, he was still Bruce Wayne, and he was raised wonderfully.
She'd disliked that she'd felt raw, though. Confused. He could still upset her very being. She'd felt exactly the same as when, younger, he first began to occupy more of her space and time. She hadn't known how to deal with him, because in her experience she only had herself to count on… no one else to rely on. And he'd subverted that.
Similarly, she'd tasted need again for the first time in a long time, the other night. The familiar but unwanted need for Bruce Wayne had gotten under her skin and shaken her to her core, and her heart had felt erratic all evening as they progressed through it.
She'd rejected the feeling out of pure spite, though. It's just an act, she'd told herself through it all. None of it's real.
Now, though, this felt good. Real. When she closed her eyes, bits and pieces of her that she'd thought dead were reignited, so fucking alive.
"Mhm," she hummed breathlessly, thrilled as her fingers explored him, the differences that hadn't been there before. She touched tight ass, feathered goosebumps on the small of his back, slicked up his spine, met damp abdomen, scratched pectorals. He allowed all that, blue eyes burning, long deep breaths tiding him. Against her she felt him harden, press against her, yet he remained still, the awareness of it drifting between them unspoken. "You?" she asked, and chuckled a little when he blinked.
Then Bruce kissed her again and she shut up. Adamant palms plunged into her pants to cup and rediscover her ass. Then he roamed her body underneath her thick oversized hoodie, the touch of conditioned air on her exposed skin raising goosebumps. Finally he came to her breasts, groaning and his eyes glazing when he realized she wore no bra. She gasped as he bowed his head into her neck, his palms claiming her warmly, tenderly. He exhaled a long, pained breath as she arched into him.
God, he'd never touched her like this, so decadently. There was power in him, in her. So restrained.
Quivering, Selina nudged his chin up, mewling the loss as his hands left their cradle and pressed a warm trail back down to rest heavily on her hips. He captured her lips again, but not before she could catch his primal, heavy-lidded gaze on her. Her mouth dried, wondering, anticipating what he would do next.
But then he gently pushed her away and stood from the sill, taking a deep gulp of air to steady his breathing. "It was me," he said shakily, referring to her question. "And you are so beautiful. But - fuck -" He tore away, and she watched him march past her and a few machines, effectively putting some distance between them. He turned back when he felt far enough. Even from there, his eyes were dark, dark storms. He swallowed. "But it's getting late, and we have an appointment early tomorrow. And I need a cold shower," he added self-derisively.
He looked gorgeous standing there disheveled and his cheeks flushed, his fingers curled into resolute fists at his sides. Meanwhile, the jogging pants he wore did nothing to hide his arousal. It seemed ready to peek out of his drawstrings.
Selina sauntered forward, watching his determination crumble minutely with each step that brought her closer to him. As she reached him, she stuck out her palm, stroking his crotch in passing, and smiled when his breath hitched.
"Enjoy," she told him.
His eyes positively branded her as she left the gym.
Author's note: This and the upcoming chapter are really special to me because it's imperative that I tread carefully in bringing them close while keeping in mind the turmoil and history that threads both Bruce and Selina. I hope I did Selina justice here by making sure she doesn't forget he left though she also cares. I had to rewrite whole paragraphs over and over in this chapter because I couldn't get their interaction at the end right. I knew where I wanted them to be going, but I just couldn't figure out how to get there from Selina's prior refusal to accept his words of regret. Let me know what you think.
I believe the words from Thomas Wayne's letter to Bruce were from the show? Either that or from the comics, I'm honestly not sure anymore, it's been months since I last binged the show.
Next chapter is going to be orphanage time and also exploring a bit more of this tenderness we've just uncovered. AND THAT'S ALL I'M GONNA SAY ABOUT NEXT CHAPTER OK BYE.