Selina was glad that Ivy was home. Ivy was pushy, a pain in the ass, and certifiably insane, and Selina had missed her. They watched each-other's backs and Selina sorely needed someone on her side. But even so, she couldn't help but worry that Ivy being home made them both more vulnerable. Selina was fighting for her life, and she didn't need to give Gerard any more weapons to use against her. He was already gunning for the St. Bart's kids, she didn't want Ivy to get stuck in the crosshairs as well.
Needless to say, Selina was nervous. Fear was a powerful motivator, and Selina had no romantic notions about her own bravery. She'd grown up under a bridge after running away from the orphanage. She'd given up a life of comfort to scraping by on a daily basis and going hungry more often than not. Selina had seen more deaths than she could count, and when it came down to it, she would always choose to save her own skin. She wasn't brave. But she was alive, and fully intended to stay that way.
"Sel," Ivy griped over the phone, nearly a week after she'd been released. "This place is a hellhole. You have to rescue me. They won't let me near any chemicals, not even cleaning supplies." Selina rolled her eyes, despite nearly jumping out of her skin when the phone had rang. It was a burner, one that Selina hadn't used since Ivy had been arrested and that only she had the number to. Selina was surprised that Ivy remembered the number. Then again, Ivy had the best memory of anyone Selina knew. She'd had already told her about Tommy's disappearance – leaving out the bits that involved Gerard and the Penguin – and Ivy promised to get right on it. If anyone could find a lost kid, Ivy could.
"You're a convicted poisoner," Selina said reasonably. "They have to take that into account."
"I'm not going to poison anyone here," Ivy protested. "Well, there is one girl who's really starting to get on my nerves."
"It's been a week." Selina deadpanned. "You're stuck there for a year. Please don't get sent to jail again."
"I know, I know, play nice with the kiddies," Ivy sighed. "It's just so boring."
"Oh quit griping," Selina said, grinning. She could practically see Ivy melodramatically throw her arm over her forehead at the horror of it all. Selina's smile died just as quickly, hearing a soft knock on the door. "Hold on," she whispered into the phone, placing one hand on the knife stashed in the waistband of her jeans. Putting an eye to the peephole, Selina let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Jeannie," Selina said, her voice heavy with relief. The little girl was on her doorstep, sucking on a lollypop and smiling like it was Christmas. "You are not supposed to be here."
"But I missed you," Jeannie protested. "And your friend wanted to see you. He gave me this lolly." Jeannie waved her prize, smiling happily.
"My friend?" Selina asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Selina," an unfortunately familiar and entirely unwelcome voice said, stepping into her field of view. He smiled at her, obviously for Jeannie's benefit. "Good to see you again."
"V," Selina said into the phone, her mind whirring out of control. "I have to call you back."
"You okay?" Ivy asked, suddenly urgent. Selina didn't answer, just hung up, still trying to process. Bruce Wayne. Here. At her door. In the Narrows.
Shit.
"Thank you for showing me how to get here," Wayne said, kneeling at Jeannie's side. Selina wanted to scream at Jeannie to run away. Instead she just stood in her doorway, watching as the billionaire slipped Jeannie a fifty-dollar bill. He'd traded in his suit for jeans in a hoodie since the gala, but no one would think that he belonged here.
"Bye Lina!" Jeannie said happily, waving and clutching the bill in her little fist. She took off running, off to spend her prize on candy no doubt. Selina watched her go, suddenly thinking of Tommy. The last time she'd seen him, he had been running to spend the money she'd given him. Half of her wanted to run after the little girl and make sure that she got home okay, but Selina had a much bigger problem to deal with.
"Sweet kid," Wayne said idly, looking past her into the apartment. "Nice place. I figured it would be bigger considering the whole 'career criminal' thing. Then again, does Falcone get a cut? Aren't you in his territory?" At Falcone's name, the Selina snapped back to reality.
"Shut up," she snarled. "And get out." He couldn't be here. Gerard had eyes all over the Narrows and the billionaire had undoubtedly already tripped alarms. He had to go.
Selina was halfway through slamming the door in his face when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Three long rings, three short, and then three long again. SOS. Gerard had his spies and Selina had hers – mostly old contacts from her years under the overpass – and one of then had just tipped her off. He was coming.
Shit.
"Get in," Selina said, grabbing his sleeve and dragging Wayne inside. He swore and ripped his arm out of her grasp, glaring.
"Hey, watch it," he said warily, the patronizing demeanor vanishing. Selina didn't respond, too busy trying to think her way out. Gerard was coming and Wayne was in her apartment. She cast about for a hiding place but her home was small and not well equipped for high-stakes hide-and-seek. Finally, Selina marched to her hall closet and threw the door open.
"Get in."
"You're insane," Wayne objected immediately, his dark eyes scanning her face. Selina didn't disagree, but now wasn't the time to argue her sanity.
"He's coming, and if he sees you here, we're both going to die." Selina said urgently, feeling like she was trying to convince a brick wall. "If you hear gunfire, don't come out. Wait thirty minutes and then go to the police." Selina didn't know if Gerard was coming to kill her but if he was she was going to make damn sure that the police knew who did her in.
"Is everything so life and death with you?" Wayne asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Life and death things are."
"Selina," a sing-songy voice floated through the door. Selina's head snapped towards the voice, feeling ice crawl through her veins even as her heart sped. Gerard.
"God dammit," Selina swore, turning back to Wayne. "Look, billionaire, I don't want to die and he will kill us if he sees you here."
"Who?" Selina wanted to scream at him.
"Someone who scares me a hell of a lot more than you do so get in the goddamn closet." Wayne stared at her for three terrifying seconds longer before he let her push him inside and lock the door behind him.
"Gerard," Selina said warmly, opening the door and forcing her lips up into a smile. She didn't have enough time to calm her racing heart, but she managed to keep her face from betraying her panic. "You know, this is my home, and if you'd like to discuss business, I'd prefer it be at the bar."
"A little touchy, are we?" Gerard said innocently, striding past her.
"Well I seem to remember your new business partner marching in here, threatening me, and then giving me a job. I'd prefer if that were a one-time thing, you understand. I don't shit where I eat."
"A little coarse, but I take your meaning. This isn't a business call, however. I'm just here to congratulate you."
"Congratulate me," Selina repeated.
"Your work on the Wayne job was marvelous, simply marvelous. You've proven yourself once again to be an incomparable asset. And I hope your friend – Ivy is it? – comes to work with us as well." Selina nodded, taking care to make sure that her smile didn't drop.
"I'm sure that she'll be in touch. You'd be lucky to have her."
"I'm sure we would," Gerard said. "However, she will be considerably less valuable if you've shared…certain information. I know that you two are close." Selina suddenly understood. He wanted to make sure that Selina hadn't told Ivy about double-crossing Falcone.
"Of course not," Selina said. "I know what happens to people who talk."
"Good." Gerard said, nodding. He brightened suddenly. "I'm glad you have a friend in our particular line of work. I do worry about you, Selina. You're a very lonely child."
"I haven't been a child in years," Selina replied, fighting to keep the edge out of her voice. "But I do appreciate your concern."
"You know you're like family to me, Selina," Gerard said, cupping her chin. Selina had to force herself not to flinch away. "The closest thing I have to a daughter." Do you threaten the rest of your family at gunpoint? The question echoed in Selina's mind. "Now, I've got to go. Things to do, people to see, you understand." Translation: I'm done with proving to you that you are completely under my power. For now.
"Thank you for stopping by," Selina said politely, holding the door open for him.
"Goodbye Selina." Gerard said, kissing her on the cheek. "I suspect that I'll be seeing you again soon." He paused halfway out the door and Selina could swear that he looked directly at the closet where Wayne was hiding. She breathed an in audible sigh of relief when he moved on without a second glance. Selina closed the door behind him and watched through the peephole as Gerard got into a car and drove off.
"I need a new apartment," Selina muttered to herself. Far too many people knew where she lived now. She needed to get off of the grid, go underground. Just for a while.
But she had a bigger problem than apartment hunting. A billionaire hidden in her closet was the much more pressing issue. Selina opened the door and froze, suddenly eye-to-eye with the barrel of a gun. Glock 42. .380 caliber automatic. Safety off and held steady. Clearly, Wayne wasn't playing around.
"Put that away before you hurt yourself," Selina growled, trying her best to look bored. She hated guns. Hated them. They were loud, imprecise, and any idiot could use them. Case and point: Bruce Wayne had one.
"Who was that?" Wayne demanded. "Answer me," he ordered when Selina just glared.
"Or what?" she challenged. "You'll shoot me?" In a burst of crazy bravado, Selina grabbed the muzzle of the gun and pressed it against her own forehead. "Do it then. Shoot me." Some small part of her realized that this was the second time she'd asked the billionaire to kill her, but Selina couldn't bring herself to care. At this point, she was dead either way. For a long time she'd just thought that she was good at surviving. Living under a bridge at the ripe old age of ten? Fine, no problem, Selina had managed. Navigating a city full of gang-bangers and cops that were somehow even worse? Easy. She'd learned how to play the game and play it well. But ever since she'd stumbled in on Gerard and the Penguin, Selina had sensed that her time was running out. Maybe this was where the clock stopped.
For a single moment, Selina thought that he would pull the trigger, but then Wayne pulled away, his eyes downcast and the gun hanging limply by his side.
"I'm not going to shoot you," he said heavily.
"Then put it away," Selina said again. "Better yet, give it to me." Selina outstretched her hand and Wayne's eyes flashed suspiciously.
"What so you can shoot me?" Selina rolled her eyes and lunged forward, twisting the gun out of his hand. Her knife flashed up, a warning, and Wayne stilled. Selina emptied the magazine onto the floor and popped out the single bullet in the chamber, feeling marginally better once it was disarmed.
"I don't like guns," Selina said simply, tossing it back to him. True, but she also didn't want Wayne armed in her apartment. "Enjoy your paperweight."
"So knives but not guns?" Wayne asked, tucking the useless gun into the waistband of his jeans.
"Guns are impersonal," Selina said, looking away from him. "If you're going to kill someone, you owe it to them to see the look on their face when they die." Wayne stared at her openly, caught off-guard by the rare burst of honesty. Selina scowled, realizing that she'd said too much, and threw open a back window. "Now. Get out of my apartment before I see the look on your face when you die."
"But – " Wayne started and Selina felt her frayed nerves finally snap.
"Get out!" she shrieked, hurling her knife at him. It stuck into the wall inches from his head, the handle quivering from the force of the throw. Wayne paled and pulled himself through the window without another word. Selina watched until he turned the corner and then pulled her phone out of her pocket, hitting the second number on speed-dial.
"Leo?" she said to one of the guys in her homeless network. "There's a kid leaving my place now. I need you to follow him and make sure that he gets out of the Narrows. No, don't make contact. Just signal me when he's out. Yeah. Bye." Selina managed to hang up before her hands started shaking. Gerard and Wayne in her apartment. At the same time. Selina didn't believe in any kind of God, but if she did, she would have sworn that he was screwing her over. Or trying to give her a heart attack. Her breath was coming in quick, short gasps and Selina could swear that the room was getting smaller. She fell against the wall, sinking into a heap on the floor and pulling her knees in tight to her chest.
It was too much. Wayne, Gerard, the Penguin, all of it. Selina couldn't handle it all. She didn't know how much time had passed when her phone vibrated twice. Wayne had gotten out. Selina breathed an inexplicable sigh of relief and then buried her head in her arms, frustrated. She shouldn't care whether or not Wayne got out of Narrows in one piece, it was none of her business. She didn't care, she couldn't afford to care. She had her own problems to deal with without worrying about the safety of one goddamn billionaire. Blood pounded in her ears and Selina had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing.
Christ, she was scared.
Bruce made it all the way to the bus station before his hands started shaking.
"How was your outing, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked when Bruce stumbled through the main doors.
"Fine," he muttered, making a beeline for his father's study. Bruce still couldn't think of it as his own. He slammed the door behind him and collapsed onto the couch, his hands still trembling violently. He shouldn't have gone there. Bruce didn't know what was wrong with him. He didn't know what possessed him to track the girl – Selina, her name was Selina – down. He didn't know why he was so obsessed with finding her. Bruce had always thrown himself headlong into projects, latching onto an idea or, in this case, a person. Alfred had called them "flights of fancy," but none of them had been this dangerous. He could've gotten them both killed.
Bruce hung his head, replaying the whole afternoon in his mind, over and over. He was sure that whoever the man at the door was, he was worse than Bruce could have ever imagined. When he was hiding in the closet, he'd been sure that she was going to turn on him and give him up. He'd been ready to fight, that's why he had his gun out. Stupid. He shouldn't have been running around the Narrows with a gun in the first place.
He'd thought that he was so smart, being able to track her down when clearly she didn't want anyone to be able to find her. Not even Detective Gordon had put it all together. But that wasn't what drove him to the most dangerous neighborhood in the city, knocking on the door of a girl who'd stolen from him and attacked him in his own home. She'd just seemed so scared at the gala, even when she was coming at him with a knife. Like she hadn't wanted to be there at all. And then she'd said that someone was going to kill her – that he was going to get her killed. Bruce had to understand, he had to know who it was she was so afraid of.
And in doing so he'd put them both in more danger than they'd started out in. Bruce should have recognized his mistake the moment she'd opened the door. His first thought was that she looked vulnerable – she'd quickly proven him wrong, but at first glance, he'd thought that she seemed completely defenseless. In every other encounter she'd worn her clothes like armor; to protect herself, to blend in. But in a Gotham Knights T-shirt and jeans, the armor was gone, stripped away until she was just a person no more dangerous than anyone else. But it wasn't the vulnerability that Bruce couldn't get out of his head, or the fear coursing through his veins like poison when he was sure that she was going to give him up.
It was the way she'd looked at him, with eyes clearer and greener than he'd ever seen before. She pressed the gun to her own forehead and refused to look away, glaring at him with a mixture of defiance, despair, and an insane kind of bravery. Like she wanted him to pull the trigger, like she was daring him to.
Bruce shook his head.. He'd just wanted to understand, but how could he understand someone like her? He'd never lived in the kind danger that dogged her every step, never had to steal and scrape to survive. Now, at least, they had something in common.
God, he was scared.
Sorry this update is so long-coming, guys! My computer crashed and I had to rewrite a good chapter and a half, and then finals hit, and being a premed student in college is murder, believe you me.
I hope you all enjoyed the stakes getting even higher! Please review, they're what get me through.