"People are more afraid of knives," Selina explained from above him. Bruce settled himself against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
"I disagree," Bruce said immediately, his mother's scream echoing in his mind along with the impossibly loud bouncing of pearls.
"I don't care if you agree or not," Selina cut across him before the memory could take hold. "I can take a gun from you – I have taken a gun from you." Even without seeing her face, Bruce could see the smile in her voice. "But no one's going to make a grab for a blade. Besides, blades are easier to conceal, and nobody expects someone my size to be armed."
"Isn't your Alleycat persona kind of well-known?" Bruce asked before he could stop himself. There was a beat of silence and then Bruce wheeled backwards as Selina swung upside down, glaring daggers.
"I went by Alleycat when I was twelve," Selina snapped. "You were going to tell Jeeves my name; I had to come up with something. I mean, look at me," Selina said, using her good arm to swing down and landing neatly on her two feet. "No one expects a girl under five four to be armed." Bruce had never noticed her height, to be honest. There had always been so many other things to pay attention to – the enormous jackets she'd been wearing in he orphanage the first time they'd met, the little black dress from the gala, a knife being held to his throat, her hair – but now that he looked, she was shorter than him by at least six inches and had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. Something she hated, no doubt.
"Then what happens when you're not armed?" Bruce asked.
"I'm always armed"
"You're not now." Bruce pointed out.
That you know of," she insisted. "And if I'm not armed, I run." Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow. He hadn't run from her that night in the study. Bruce still couldn't believe that he'd engaged in a bona fide sword-fight. It was like something out of a cartoon, him in a suit and tie with his fencing saber, her in an all-black ensemble, brandishing her dagger and radiating dark confidence. It seemed like running had been the very last thing on her mind. "Believe it or not, standing and fighting is the best way to get yourself killed."
"You fought me."
"You didn't leave me much of a choice," she replied coolly. "And I knew I could beat you."
"You did not!" Bruce objected. Selina smiled, just a tiny upturn of her lips, but her eyes lit up. "You did not know that you could beat me."
"The sword was a surprise," she conceded. "I didn't think you'd actually try to fight me."
"And what if you didn't think you could win?" Bruce challenged. Selina shrugged and before he could even register that she was moving, she'd perched herself on the beam above him on all fours like a cat. How the hell had she done that? Alfred had told him that he'd fractured one of her ribs and her arm was still in bad shape. How she was still able to lift a spoon, let alone haul herself onto a rafter was beyond him. "That's where the climbing comes in."
"You're a quick study, aren't you billionaire?"
"So running and stabbing are the only two options?" Bruce asked, ignoring the dig. Selina stood on the beam and started walking, and he sped to keep pace with her. "What happens when you can't do either?"
"Then I take a beating," she said finally, after a long silence. Bruce thought of the ugly that still mottled her cheek and jaw and felt a flash of rage burn through his stomach. Had those been the result of just 'taking a beating?'
"What, so thief extraordinaire Alleycat can't throw a decent punch?"
"No, not really."
"Why the hell not?" She'd told him more than once how rough she lived in the Narrows. And Bruce had heard the stories and read the reports. People were jumped every day, killed for food, money, or just at random. Bruce found it hard to believe that she'd made it through her whole life without knowing how to defend herself without a weapon.
"Because I want to live. And sometimes you just have to take it."
"Bullshit." Bruce snapped before he could stop himself. He didn't know what it was about her, but his impulse control seemed to weaken when she was around. "You need to learn hand-to-hand."
"And who's going to teach me? You?" Selina challenged, spinning on the beam and crouching on all fours. How she managed it without falling or hurting herself further was beyond him.
"Yeah. Me."
This was the dumbest thing she'd ever agreed to do, and Selina worked for the mob. Not only the mob, but she was a key player in a coup between the two crime families. All of that stupid piling up on her head and she still hadn't learned. And so, every night for over a week, she'd met Wayne in the gym and let him beat the crap out of her until the early hours of the morning.
"Ow," she grumbled once she could breathe again. She could take a hit, and had, but she'd never let it happen on purpose. "That one hurt."
"You're still trying to run away." Wayne said, extending a hand to help her up.
"Yeah, but it's the best way not to get hit, which is the goal," Selina snapped, knocking his hand away and getting to her feet.
"The whole point if to try and fight your way around me. If you're always looking for a way to run, it makes it easier for me to knock you out." Wayne swiped the back of his head across his forehead. "Maybe we should stop for the night. Wouldn't want to get blood all over your new outfit."
"Not a chance," Selina said, ignoring the comment about the new clothes. She'd expected to change back into her old, dirty outfit, but Alfred had been supplying her with new clothing, including a new pair of combat boots and fingerless gloves that he'd dubbed "thief chic." And while Selina was loath to accept any form of charity, the street rat in her cringed at the waste of perfectly good clothing, no matter where it came from. "Come on, billionaire," she taunted, rewrapping the bandages around her knuckles. Although, it wasn't like she was throwing many punches anyways; being as small as she was, her best bet to do any real damage was to use her elbows and knees. "What, are you afraid that I'll win this time?"
"Not a chance," Wayne said, stepping lightly back into fighting stance.
"How the hell do you know how to fight anyway?" Selina asked, matching Wayne step for step as they began to circle around the ring. "Other rich kids bullying you on the playground?"
"Something like that," he replied. Selina danced out of the way as Wayne lunged at her, leaping to the opposite side of the ring. "After my parents died, I started picking fights with kids that were bigger and older than me. And after three weeks of split lips and black eyes, Alfred figured that if I was going to be fighting, I might as well win." He stepped forward and swung again. Selina blocked the attack, feeling a glow of pride before she forced it to the back of her mind.
"He's full of surprises, your butler," Selina said, taking a deep breath through her nose before darting forward. Somehow she made it through Wayne's guard before he could react, landing a solid blow to his ribs before he swung at her again. Selina slid to one knee and jabbed her elbow upward, striking Wayne's jaw and then hitting him again in the nose. He wheeled backwards, unprepared, and Selina hooked her foot around his. Wayne wobbled and fell flat, and Selina fell with him, not quick enough to jump away in time.
"You're bleeding," Selina managed, her face inches above his. Blood was flowing freely from his nose, running into his mouth and down his chin.
"Yeah, you got me pretty good there," Wayne said, reaching around her to touch the tip of his finger to the blood dripping down his face. Selina blinked, suddenly very aware that she was on top of him and that he was staring at her. Throwing off his arm, Selina surged to her feet, putting as much distance between then as she could within the confines of the ring. "I think you broke my nose." Red droplets stood out against the starched white of his shirt and Wayne touched the bridge of his nose, wincing. "Yeah, definitely broke it."
"Shit, really?" Selina said, coming closer. "I didn't think I hit you that hard. Here," she said, unwrapping her knuckles and handing him the bandages. "Use these to stop the bleeding and tilt your head up."
"Have you done this before?" Wayne asked, doing as she'd said without argument for once.
"Fixed a broken nose? Yeah," Selina said, thinking back to when Ivy had come home bleeding and she'd had to take care of her. "Do you have ice anywhere?"
"In the freezer over there," Wayne said, gesturing.
"Keep pressure on that," Selina ordered, vaulting out of the ring and grabbing the ice. "Don't move."
"Yes ma'am," Wayne said.
"What are you doing?" Selina demanded, stopping short when she turned to see Wayne stripping off his shirt.
"You're not the one who'll have to deal with Alfred if I ruin another shirt. He might up and quit this time and then I'll have to do my own laundry." Selina couldn't help the scowl that twisted her features. "That was a joke," Wayne said, pressing the ice against his nose. "I was joking. I promise I can do my own laundry."
"You need to get your nose set or it'll heal crooked," Selina said, changing the subject and determinedly avoiding eye contact.
"Can you do it?"
"You should go to the hospital."
"Bruce Wayne showing up covered in blood at three in the morning? People are going to ask questions. It'll just be easier to do it here." Selina wanted to tell him to go get Alfred – if the old man could set bones, he could reset a nose. "Please."
"Fine," Selina grumbled. Wayne took the ice off of his face, letting it hang. Selina stood as far away as she could manage, pressing her hands on each side of his nose. "On the count of three, okay?" One – " Selina jerked her hands to the right, forcing his nose back into place. Wayne swore violently, whirling away from her and yelling in pain. "Come on, don't be a baby."
"You said three," Wayne protested.
"I lied. Put the ice on it and quit whining. It doesn't hurt that badly.
"You try it."
"Please," Selina said offhandedly. "I've had worse." Wayne stilled, turning to look to her, his eyes tight.
"I noticed," he said darkly. Selina narrowed her eyes and suddenly his hand was on her face, his thumb running over a healing bruise on her jaw. "The man that you're afraid of, did he do this to you?" Selina didn't respond, too busy trying to reorder her suddenly frantic mind. The bruise – which hadn't hurt in over a week – was tingling under his touch, and her thoughts scattered in every direction.
"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Alfred demanded, throwing the door open with a bang. Somehow he still was impeccably dressed, despite obviously being roused in the middle of the night. Selina shook herself, jumping away from Wayne like she'd been electrocuted.
"I broke his nose," Selina said cavalierly. "Fixed it though."
"And what did you do to your shirt?" Alfred asked, nearly shouting, and taking the broken nose in stride. Selina had to appreciate his priorities. "Master Wayne, I am at my wit's end. You pick that up and pray that the blood comes out, or we will have words, young man."
"Good luck with that, Master Wayne," Selina said, careful not to touch him as she ducked out of the ring.
"Can I get you anything to eat?" Alfred asked politely. "It's early, but – "
"You don't know me, but if there's food, I'll eat it." Selina said. "Lead the way." Anything to get away from Wayne.
Besides, Selina liked the kitchen. The Mansion had two, actually. One – the big one that Selina had used to stash her stuff after walking in the front door – was only used for caterers and big events. The other was small and homey, almost like the kitchen of an Italian restaurant that Selina would steal from when things in the Narrows were getting particularly lean. The walls were painted yellow, and covered with paintings of landscapes from around the world. And despite several dining rooms, there was a breakfast bar and a small table nestled in a corner by the window. In the entire manor, it was the only room that Selina didn't actually hate. Maybe because it looked like a kitchen in a real house, as opposed to something out of Bluebloods Monthly. Besides, it was actually stocked, as opposed to the other one, which was completely empty. Selina had checked in the first couple of days, after choosing to go hungry had gotten old.
"Whatcha making?" Selina asked Alfred, who'd started taking ingredients out of cabinets and the fridge.
"Well it is morning, so I was thinking of a little three am breakfast. How do omelets sound?"
"Perfect." Selina said eagerly, her stomach growling its assent. She'd learned very early not to be picky. Even when her mother was alive, there hadn't been much to eat, and Selina had been grateful for anything that came into the house.
"Dice those up for me, would you?" Alfred said, handing her a knife, handle-first. Selina raised an eyebrow. She had already injured one member of the house tonight. How did he know that she wouldn't take the knife and run? "I've never liked an audience when I cook," he said by way of explanation. "My policy is to put anyone in my kitchen to work. I thought this task would suit you, given your proclivity for sharp objects."
"Your kitchen?" Selina asked, taking the knife. Alfred passed her a cutting board and a bowl if vegetables.
"Make no mistake, despite any honorifics to the contrary, I am the master of this kitchen." Selina could believe it. "Where exactly did you learn to set noses, Miss?" He asked her after s few minutes of companionable silence.
"Oh God don't call me that," Selina said, cringing at the formality and ignoring the question entirely. She'd never been called "Miss" in her life.
"Well I don't know your real name and calling you Alleycat would be terribly awkward for the both of us." Selina couldn't disagree. There was a reason she'd tried to bury that old nickname. It had seemed apropos when she was young, but the older she became the more embarrassed she was to be known by it.
"It's Selina," she said softly after a while. "My name is Selina." It was a step, telling him her real name, but the old butler had very literally had her under his thumb for over a week now. If he was going to call the cops, he'd have done it and even so, it wasn't like there was any record of her after she was ten years old.
"Pleasure to officially make your acquaintance, Selina." Alfred said, managing a little bow despite juggling a frypan and a bowl full of whipped eggs. "Under undeniably regrettable circumstances, but a pleasure nonetheless."
"Believe it or not, this isn't the worst place I've been held against my will," Selina quipped, dumping her vegetables into the pan with the eggs.
"This happens to you often then?" Selina bit her lip, realizing what she'd said. She didn't know it was about the manor that was making her give up so much information. She stayed silent, fiddling with the knife in her hand. "Selina, if I may. What is a reaper?"
"That's a dangerous question," she replied softly, setting the knife down very cautiously. "How do you know that word Alfred?"
"Money talks," he replied in measured tones. Of course it did. Money ruled Gotham and everyone in it. And it shouldn't have surprised her that Alfred had looked into the criminal under his roof.
"Money should stay the hell out of my business," she said sharply. "What do you want from me?"
"It's just a question."
"No it's not. You don't know anything about me; you don't know what I've done, or what I'm capable of – "
"I know that you saved Bruce," Alfred said quietly, cutting right through her tirade. "And I know that you burglarized his mansion before. Coming back here was incredibly dangerous, you could have been killed, I could have called the authorities, and yet you came anyway. What I want to know is why a thief would bother."
"Because he already owns me!" Selina burst out before reason could kick in and shut her up. "He doesn't get anyone else. He doesn't get to take anyone else away." Hot tears crowded in the corners of her eyes and Selina spun out of the kitchen before they could fall.
"Selina – " Wayne said, appearing in the hall and catching hold of her wrist. His eyes were wide with alarm, studying her like they always did. "Hey are you alright?"
"Don't touch me!" she hissed, ripping her hand away. "I'm done! I'm done with you, and your stupid mansion, and whatever sick game you and the old man are playing by keeping me here. I don't care anymore. Let him call the cops on me, I'm leaving. I can't stay in this fucking place anymore. Next time an assassin's coming to kill you, you're dead, because I am not coming to rescue you. You're on your own. I am done." Selina blew past him, leaving Wayne looking hurt and confused behind him and her heart stuttered a little.
She didn't care – she wouldn't allow herself to care. She was leaving.
Such drama. Also, sorry this update took so long, I just got back to school and the new semester is already kicking my ass.