Selina
The strained smirk she had been maintaining since Alfred Pennyworth had entered Bruce's study, slowly drained from Selina's face as she topped the second story landing. Ignoring her sore ankle and the heavy pounding of her heart, she took her first few steps down the long hall. She had taken the stairs too quickly and she knew she should slow down. It was a long trek from the family hall to her room and if she ran it wouldn't be doing her aching ankle or her over-worked lungs any favors.
Rounding the first corner into the maze of halls that shaped the second floor, she slowed her pace barely noting the feel of the thick rug beneath her socked feet. The change in texture was something she usually would have noticed, but somewhere between the study and this hall, her thick sweater had begun to feel like an oven and the leggings she had been so keen to wear, now clung to her in all the wrong places and she couldn't quite see past that.
At some point sweat had begun to pool at her lower-back and the slick feel only added to her frustration. If she had worn anything beneath her cashmere sweater, even just a bra, she may have stripped it off just to escape the suddenly unbearable heat, but for some reason she could never fully shake the idea that she was being watched. There was little doubt in her mind that there were cameras hidden inside the Manor. The stupid thing was so massive, it only made sense to keep more than one layer of security. The idea that she might be popping up on some monitor somewhere might have kept her top in place, but it didn't stop her from slowing her pace even further.
Even now, she wasn't sure why she had taken the stairs so quickly or why she had forced the audacity so hard. Her jaw still ticked and her throat burned from the bark of a laugh she had sent the old man's way. She'd had no need to do that. She had never been worried about the judgment behind those cornflower blue eyes, Alfred's opinion of her was like the tide, high and low, but never steady and that had been just fine with her. No, she hadn't been running from Alfred at all.
Looking over her shoulder, she scanned the hall for any signs she was being followed. She knew it didn't make sense, that Alfred was probably still down stairs giving Bruce an earful about the dangers of wicked females, but it never hurt to be sure. Satisfied she was still alone, she leaned against the nearest wall. She knew resting was never the best idea and that the last place she needed to be caught was close to Bruce's room, but she didn't care.
She was going to allow herself this second. This moment to catch her breath.
She knew she shouldn't be so winded. At home, she could out run any mark and top a roof before most people could reach the second floor, but that had been months ago. She hadn't even run from the scene downstairs, and between the sweat dripping down her spine and the stitch in her side she knew she was still a long way from the girl who had cart-wheeled along steel-beams and scaled fire-escapes for sport.
No, that girl had been smarter. She had stuck to the code. She had known when to run. She had known to keep moving. That girl had remembered the rules that had kept her alive: Always move forward and never turn back.
She could run now. She knew she could. She could let her feet take her where they needed to go.
She knew it was what she should do.
She should keep going, straight to that third floor, straight to her room. It would be nothing to just grab her boots and jacket and just take off. She could be changed and gone, half-way back to the city before the old man was even done with what Selina was sure was a less than flattering evaluation of her character. Leaving would be a smart move. A good move.
Bruce could run back to whatever it was he did with all of his time and she… She could finally get her head on straight.
It would be the best decision for both of them.
But what was best for Selina Kyle and what Selina Kyle wanted had never found a way to live in harmony.
She had spent most of her life wanting things that most people took for granted: a week with a full belly, clothes that weren't dirty and taped together, a roof over her head that no one could take from her. But she had learned from a very early age, that those things tended to come with very strong strings. Strings that would have eventually turned into chains. Chains she swore she would never wear again.
When she had first decided to flee the home, she had made a rule for herself never to stay in one place too long. She figured seeing the same faces, the same places, had the dangers of making you cling. Routine made it way too easy to grow attachments. True attachments, attachments you might one day consider friends and Selina Kyle had no friends. So, by her thinking, if she kept herself clear, if she had no real attachments, no real connections, no real responsibilities, she had no problems.
It was easier just to keep things simple. Simple was good. Simple didn't leave you. Simple didn't shove a knife in your back. Simple didn't reach inside your chest and rip out your heart. Simple was uncomplicated. Simple kept you alive.
Simple had been working just fine until the night she'd chosen to nick a wallet and a pint of milk to feed herself and her favorite tom. And it was clear that simple had chosen to up and leave her as she had had been swaggering down an alley and the sound of a gentle laugh had halted her in her tracks. Simple had abandoned them both as that gentle laugh had quickly turned into a guttural scream. A scream overfilled with the agony and horror that a pair of innocent grey eyes had just witnessed.
She had always called it curiosity that had stayed her, but she knew then, like she knew now, it had been something else altogether different. It had been something a lot more complex than inquisitiveness that had held her in place on that fire escape and not let her go. Something that had forced her to stay as she watched that family fall apart, had kept her still until the sounds of sirens and the shouts of angry cops had filled the air.
Hell, even common sense had taken a vacation when she had first spied him- bundle of dark hair and expensive clothes and a smile that had reached his eyes. Yes, commonsense had fled her and something foreign had taken its place. Something she had never felt before, as if not a string, but a thread inside of her had been suddenly caught by an invisible hand. That phantom grip had then proceeded to draw her across town to a cemetery to watch as a boy had lowered both of his parents into the ground; it had jerked her into the middle of nowhere to see where he had called home.
Her curiosity should have been sated then. She should have severed that cord and pushed that boy behind her. She should have never given him a second thought, but like a sore tooth, she couldn't leave it be. She had had no business breaking into his house, especially on a night when a goat headed anarchist was on the hunt for heirs like it was the freaking French Revolution. If she had been caught, Alfred could have shot her dead and no one would have blinked an eye. But she had gone anyway, against training, against common sense, she had still gone.
She'd been so stupid then.
Taking in a deep breath she leaned her head against the wall behind her.
But, what had time really changed?
It hadn't been the last time she'd found her way back to Wayne Manor. Even after some of their worst fights, this place, that kid, always had a way of calling her back and idiot that she had become, she never fought it.
Selina let her eyes roam down the long hall, the second floor was as dark and quiet as the rest of Wayne Manor. Any other night she may have found something oddly comforting in the warm pools of lamplight that dotted the rugged floor and the gentle ticking of the oversized grandfather clock that was always a minute off, but tonight had not been any other night.
No, tonight had begun with a nightmare and ended with…
Well, not exactly a mistake, but certainly not one of her better life choices.
She nearly groaned as images of fire washed skin and dark eyes drifted across her inner eye.
What in the hell had she been thinking?
She had kissed Bruce.
Bruce Wayne.
Child-billionaire, Bruce Wayne.
Gotham's Little Prince, Bruce Wayne.
Poster Child for Modern-day Monarchy, Bruce Wayne.
But worst of all, the thing she hated to admit… Her Friend, Bruce Wayne.
Again, the question raged at her, what in the hell had she been thinking?
She had kissed Bruce. Well, technically she had tried to kiss him. But due to the boys ever quickening reflexes she had missed terribly and just when she had thought her humiliation complete, Bruce had made the attempt himself. Unlike her own ambush style, the boy had drawn it out, had lulled her, had had her twisting like a worm on a hook before he had finally kissed her back.
Selina resisted the urge to caress her own still tingling lips. The taste of soft peppermints still lingered there and deep in her belly those lost butterflies still smoldered.
It wasn't really something that she should be thinking about. It hadn't been that big of a deal. Not really. It wasn't as if Bruce had been the first boy that had tried to kiss her. Far from it. When she had been younger one of the older boys in the home had tried once or twice, but she had been small and quick and had easily ducked his advances. Quiet and agile, she had managed to avoid him for another two years when one evening he had cornered and tried again, but by then she had grown bigger and smarter and kneed him hard enough to leave him on the deck in a pool of his own vomit. After that, he had been the one taken to avoiding her.
Unfortunately, he hadn't been the last asshole to try it. She had never been completely naïve about her own looks. When she had been young she had hoped she would never be the kind of head turner that some of the girls she had known had turned out to be. Turning heads rarely turned out well for anyone. But she had been told more than once, that the bag of flesh she carried around was just a body, bone and muscle and blood and skin, nothing more. But despite that advice, Selina had always held onto the idea that it might only be a body, but it was her body. The one thing that was hers alone, that would never leave her, never betray her, and so she had fought ruthlessly to keep it for herself, to decide what she wanted to do with it and when and where and with whom.
No, Bruce had not been the first boy to try and kiss her, but he had been the first boy that she had ever wanted to try.
It felt like a lifetime ago, that an impulse created out of childhood curiosity had driven her to steal her first kiss. The tight-lipped peck had been everything she had been expecting from the boy, quick, gentle, and bathed in ten shades of innocent. A far cry from the way he had kissed her tonight. No, that kiss hadn't been any of those things. That kiss had been something else entirely.
Something so foreign and so overwhelming, that maybe, just maybe, she could admit that it scared her just a little. Not in the usual way fear graced her life, nothing in the way he had touched her had made any silent alarms ring in her mind. Quite the opposite, actually. For the first time in a long time, she had felt sheltered and curious and just the slightest bit hungry. Hungry for things neither of them were prepared for, but she knew if Alfred had not come charging in she may have kissed Bruce until her lungs burst.
Thoughts of the old man had doubt crowding the edges of her mind and her eyes flying open and checking the hall for any signs that she had been followed. When nothing more than shadows and silence answered, she let her gaze linger at the opposite end of the hall and its promises of darkness and freedom. She really should keep moving, she knew that, common sense told her so, but her feet stayed rooted, her socked-toes digging into the plush rug beneath them.
She needed to go. She had already been here too long and if she had needed any other sign that she needed to leave, Alfred barging in on them was undoubtedly it.
It made no sense to stay anyway. To even dare to want it went against everything she had ever known. Everything she had ever learned. Everything that had kept her alive for so long.
For one of the few times in her life, her instincts were at war with everything she knew and the feeling was akin to suffocating. It was such an uncommon feeling to find herself so indecisive. Gotham had raised her to always put herself first and she tried never to deviate. But this, this was different, it was confusing and... Something she couldn't quite recognize.
For as long as she could remember she had been living on a tight rope. There was a certain balance to her kind of life, the weighing of a scores worth if she succeeded versus the potential punishment if she failed. She had been brought up to study every mark: Was that a wallet or a gun beneath that tailored suit? Would that woman catch on to her quick hands? Would that man turn out to be undercover? Would this act of desperation end with her dead in a ditch, or in a pair of steal bracelets? Or if she was smart and quick and luck was with her did it mean a couple of hot meals and a pair of fresh boots. Her life may not have been carefully planned out by any parent or even herself, but she never forgot that one misstep, one bad move, could mean death or worse.
Like the decision to follow a bad mark down an even worse alley, a cold voice reminded her.
Visions of cold moldy cells and blood on snow had Selina's breath staggering through clenched teeth. She bit into her lip as she pushed that thought from her mind. She didn't have time to tackle all of the mistakes she had made in the last three months.
Stilling the sudden panic that had flared inside her, she gazed once again down the empty hall.
Maybe her instinct was wrong, maybe leaving would really be the best option.
The sounds of shuffling slippers and two familiar voices floating up the stairs had Selina's head whipping in the opposite direction. Damn it! What had she been thinking stopping here? She should have known she wasn't going to escape the boy in his own house. Especially, not when she had nearly made camp outside his bedroom door.
As she saw the top of a salt-and-pepper head clearing the landing, Selina felt the first bursts of street-born instincts come to life. Her first impulse was to beat feet, but she ignored it, already scanning the nearly empty hall for a place to hide.
Despite the late hour there were few shadows deep or dark enough to disappear entirely, and the end table was much too thin, but judging from its size the grandfather clock standing so proudly at the end of the hall would provide more than adequate cover.
Keeping the ever-nearing Bruce and Alfred insight, she slid silently along the wall until her back met the right side of the massive clock. It was such a large piece Selina knew that if she kept her back to the wall, she could safely slip beside it and neither Bruce nor Alfred would ever know she was there.
Listening to the pause in their footfalls, she inhaled deeply as she ducked her head and peered around the corner. Both Bruce and Alfred were still facing her, but their minds seemed to be too preoccupied to pay her any notice even if they had spotted her.
In the dim light, she was surprised to see the scowl and the near glare that Bruce was sending in Alfred's direction. It was only when she caught the tail-end of the Old Man's words that she finally understood the sudden flash of anger on Bruce's face.
"-the last thing I need are a couple of grey-eyed, tow-headed brats running around."
Despite her years on the street, Selina felt her cheeks burn as she understood the insulting insinuation.
"Alfred, your knowledge of basic genetics leaves something to be desired," Bruce replied, his tone caustic.
"Don't change the subject," Alfred barked back. "That girl is pure bedlam and you have no business-"
"Selina's my friend, Alfred," Bruce broke in, his voice laced with anger, "I thought you would have accepted that fact by now," he finished as if that should end the conversation.
"Friend?" the butler scoffed, "The girl looked like a lot more than that."
Bruce took a deep breath, his hand wrapped around his doorknob. "Maybe she is."
"Maybe she is," Alfred grunted disbelievingly, hooking both hands behind his back, a normally mocking gesture that lost some of its potency in his pajamas and robe. "Tell me this then, if she's such a good friend, has she told you what happened to her that night she stumbled up here half-dead?"
Unexpectedly, she felt Bruce's attention a second before his gaze moved from his door to the grandfather clock and she eased herself behind the clock's corner. She knew the shadows had done their job, she hadn't given away her position, but still she felt the need to hold her breath.
"Not yet," Bruce answered as if he was admitting something shameful as he opened the door to his room and entered Alfred trailing behind him.
Not yet.
The words echoed inside Selina's mind as his bedroom door clicked shut.
Not yet.
What in the hell had that meant?
Not yet.
Had he been…
Selina swallowed against the confidence and implications that lived in those two words?
Not yet.
Memories of all the times he had questioned her, every argument that had started with a seemingly innocent inquiry, every time he had casually mentioned her injuries, every time he had blatantly hounded her about what had happened that night, flooded back to her in a wave.
Had that been Bruce's endgame all along? Had he only been nice, to get what he really wanted? A truth that he had no right to.
Is this why he had shown her his mother's secret room? Why he had made her gloves and gifted her clothes she didn't need? Why they had had so many late night conversations where he had fooled her into giving him secrets and where he had plied her with sweet words she didn't need to hear either? And all those gentle brushes, had been like trying to lure a stray cat and that kiss… That stupid kiss!
Had it all been bull shit? Had she been a mark too stupid and blinded by the right hand to recognize what the left hand had been doing all along?
Humiliation and rage turned to ice in her belly. Ice that finally drowned those burning butterflies.
Fists clinched, she took a step toward his room, before the memories of other arguments too muffled to understand reminded her that those doors were too thick for eavesdropping. Disappointment had nearly taken root, when her eyes settled on the clock beside her. Yes, the bedroom doors might be too thick for spying, but she knew about small dark doors that weren't.
Letting out a deep breath, Selina studied the overgrown watch beside her, and regardless of her mood, felt herself grin. She knew why this clock had been built to such oversized proportions; why, in spite of its massive frame, it happened to be so light. She knew exactly why it always ran one minute too slow and what happed if you held the pendulum and wound that minute hand to a certain hour.
Selina Kyle had always had a good memory, and she remembered everything from that day so long ago when Bruce had dragged her up here and shown her what exactly this clock concealed behind it and exactly where that led.
To be continued…
Author's Note: Sorry for such a short chapter. I promise the next will be BIG. ;)
Guest: 10.15- Thank you. BatCat: Thank you so much. You always have the kindest things to say and yes, writer's block or loss of inspiration is such a hard thing to work through. I'm glad you still enjoyed the chapter despite Alfred's crankiness ;) and yes, chapter 28 is almost all Bruce. I can't wait to get back in his headspace. Winnie - Don't worry too much about TWATLH's batcat, I don't want to be too spoiler-y especially after this cliffhanger, but... Yeah, she and Bruce are about to have a talk that has been a long time coming.
If I haven't answered your review here or in DMs please let me know, I've been pretty bad about forgetting to reply lately, but I want you all to know how much I appreciate them. You guys are honestly such an inspiration. :D