It had all started with a dream. Bruce hadn't known that it was a dream at first – he hadn't even known that he was asleep at first. He had been poring over the files of his parents' case, an old habit he'd formed over the years. He had read the words and studied the pictures until he had them memorized, and reading it over and over had become something like a security blanket. Reading the gory details of his parents' case helped him fall asleep. Bruce laid his head on the mahogany desk and wondered when his life had turned into this. Obsessing over his parents' case was one thing, but inserting himself into the police's anti-organized-crime taskforce, tracking down Selina Kyle, the assassin…all of it was finally catching up to him.

Bruce was running. He knew that the assassin was in the house but he didn't know where. He just knew that he had to get away and now. He was almost to his father's old office – he could barricade himself inside and call the police. Bruce was so intent on his destination that he didn't notice the body until he'd tripped over it. He sprawled, landing hard on his hands and knees in something foul-smelling and sticky. A mop of dirty-blonde hair obscured her face, but Bruce recognized her instantly.

"Selina?" Bruce whispered, his voice coming out cracked and hoarse. She didn't respond and Bruce was struck by how small she looked, curled in on herself like a doll. "Shit, Selina, you have to get up. We need to get out of here." Bruce swept her hair out of her face, snatching his hand away when felt how cold her skin was. There was a bullet hole in the pale skin of her forehead leaking blood that tracked down the side of her face. Her eyes, usually so vibrantly green, were dull for the first time, and wet with unshed tears.

"Traitor bitch had it coming," a deep voice said above him and then Bruce was staring down the barrel of a gun. There was a flash of light –

Bruce woke with a start, scattering the files everywhere. He was up and running before he could think, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Alfred, where was Alfred? It took Bruce a moment to remember that Alfred was out refilling his prescription for sleep meds. Bruce breathed a tiny sigh of relief. It was better that he wasn't here, the assassin – the assassin was dead. Alfred had killed him. Bruce skidded to a stop, reality finally filtering back. The assassin was gone, and so was Selina. She wasn't dead, she'd left two days ago after screaming at him. Bruce still didn't know what Alfred had said to set her off, but it didn't matter. She was gone and it had just been a nightmare. Bruce waited for his breathing to regulate and his heart to calm down, but the relief never came. His breath was coming in short gasps and chest hurt from how hard his heart was beating.

"Shit," he exhaled, trying to calm himself down. Something was wrong with him. What the hell was wrong with him? Bruce fell against the wall, his knees giving out, and frantically grabbed for the phone in his pocket. "Pick up," Bruce breathed into the receiver. "Pick up pick up pick up." Bruce swore when Alfred's cheerful voice told him to leave a message at the beep. In a moment of desperation, Bruce dialed the only other number he could think of.

"Hello?" Bruce could have cried with relief, but he didn't think he could manage it. Selina's voice was soft and far more vulnerable than he'd ever heard it. It was a long shot, calling this number, but it was the only connection he had to her – the landline that came with her apartment.

"Selina?" he gasped, the word coming out reedy and thin. He couldn't stop thinking about the assassin, seeing the man's face floating above his own. He couldn't stop picturing the assassin strangling the life out of Selina right in front of him, or imagining her immobile body laid out on the ground in front of him.

"Wayne?" she snapped. "Jesus Christ what is wrong with you? Don't call me again." Bruce panicked, his heart giving a painful squeeze.

"Please don't hang up." Bruce whispered. The words were becoming harder and harder to come by. "Something's wrong. Something's wrong with me. I…I can't breathe." There was a pause and for a moment he was certain that she'd hung up on him.

"Wayne," she said softly. "Tell me what you're seeing."

"He's here, he's back, the assassin, the one that tried to kill me. I – I know he's not real but I keep seeing him." He didn't mention that he kept seeing her dead body appearing in front of his eyes.

"Wayne," Selina said, completely calm. "You're having a panic attack."

"You don't think I don't know that?" Bruce snapped, trying to inhale through his mouth but somehow unable to manage it.

"Do not yell at me," she said coolly, clinically. "And do what I tell you. Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth. He's not there anymore. Your butler shot him, remember?" Bruce noticed that she didn't mention Alfred by name. Still stinging over whatever he'd had said to her in the kitchen. "You're safe. Count your breaths with me, okay? Inhale, one two three four; exhale, one to three four. You're safe. Say it."

"I'm safe."

"Now breathe. Do it, Wayne." Bruce inhaled for four seconds, and then exhaled, counting with her over the phone.

"Why don't you ever call me my name?" Bruce said shakily, feeling his breathing start to even out. "You always call me Wayne, you never call me my name."

"Some of us don't have last names that matter, billionaire," Selina said after moment's pause. "Don't be greedy. Breathe again. Inhale, exhale. Do it with me."

"How do you know how to do this?" he asked after breathing through his nose for several minutes, following her instructions. His heart was slowing down and he could think clearly for the first time since the attack started.

"You have PTSD-induced panic attacks. I know a little something about that."

"What happened to you?"

"Dangerous question." She paused and for a second time Bruce thought that she might have hung up. "Same thing that happened to you. My mom died. Violently and in front of me when I was eight." Bruce started. She'd lost her mom even before he'd lost both of his parents.

"I'm so sorry," he said lamely.

"I got over them a long time ago. I suggest you do the same because I'm disconnecting this number. Don't call me again." This time she did hang up and all Bruce could hear was the sound of static on the end of the line.

Selina woke up screaming, bolting upright. Within seconds, warm hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back down.

"Lina, you're okay." Selina fought for a moment, the nightmare still clinging to her consciousness. "Selina!" Selina blinked, reality coming into focus. Ivy's face was hovering over hers, hazel eyes wide and worried.

"Ivy," she breathed. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"What the hell are you dreaming about?" Ivy asked for what had to be the hundredth time. Selina had been crashing at her place for over a week now, and she'd barely made it through one night without screaming bloody murder. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but you're really starting to freak me out here."

"My mom," Selina whispered. It wasn't totally a lie. Ever since Wayne's panicked phone call, Selina had been thinking more and more about her mother's death. She hadn't dwelled on it in years, but now it was all she could think about. Well, that and the assassin that had almost killed her twice over. Her dreams were filled with Newman's face, her mother's screams, and Wayne. Wayne gasping for air as his body betrayed him to panic. Selina had never been a deep sleeper – years of living on her own had deprived her of the safety to rest soundly – but this was something else. She was exhausted, running on fumes that weren't going to sustain her for much longer.

"Oh Jesus, Sel, I didn't know."

"It's okay," Selina whispered, not meaning it at all. She was falling apart. She couldn't sleep, she wasn't eating…She couldn't pickpocket a ten year old like this, let alone pull off any kind of job. If Gerard called her in she was screwed.

"I'm sleeping in here tonight." Ivy declared, throwing back the covers and snuggling close. "Just think of me as your friendly neighborhood dreamcatcher. I'll scare the nightmares away because I'm a bigger bitch than they are."

"You're not a bitch," Selina said, closing her eyes.

"You're a shit liar when you're overtired. Go to sleep," Ivy said, kissing her forehead. Selina closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep soundly.

She couldn't move. She couldn't move because there was a hand crushing her windpipe, making it impossible to breathe. For a second Selina met Newman's eyes before his face melted, reconfiguring into Wayne's.

"You've had this coming a long time," he said, his lip curled in a vicious sneer. His eyes were harder than she'd ever seen them as he pressed a gun against her stomach and fired. Selina blinked and the scene shifted. Suddenly she wasn't the one bleeding. It was her mother.

"Mom," Selina gasped, crawling over to Maria Kyle's mangled body, eight years old again and terrified. She'd been hiding in the closet like she'd been told, but she had seen everything through the slats in the door. "Mom, you're going to be okay, you're going to be okay."

"Selina…" her mother ground out. Blood flowed freely from a gaping knife wound in her side. "I love you so much, you know that right?"

"You're going to be okay," Selina said again, whispering the words like saying them over and over again would sew up the hole in Maria's flesh. "Mom, stay with me, please mom, help is coming, please stay." Her mother reached a blood-soaked hand, cupping Selina's face.

"You stay safe, Selina. I love you." Her eyes fluttered and then closed for good.

"Mom?" Selina said, her voice breaking. "Mom!" There was a single, shuddering breath and Selina knew in that moment that her mother was dead. "Mom, come back! Mommy!" She was still screaming when police burst into the apartment and tore her away. The bloody handprint was the last thing Selina had of her mother's.

She woke with a start, clapping her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming and waking Ivy. Slowly, she climbed out of the bed, her heart racing, eyes stinging from tears she'd shed in the dream. Padding into the kitchen, Selina gripped the sides of the granite counter and laid her head down on the countertop. This was going to kill her. She hadn't had a nightmare about her mom in years, and all of a sudden…

Wayne. Selina swore, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. The dreams started when she'd gotten back from his goddamn mansion, and they'd never been about her mother until she'd told him about her. This was his fault. At this point, she wasn't surprised.

"Idiot," she growled into the phone after dialing. She'd uncovered the number after doing reconnaissance for the gala heist. Back when things were simple. Simpler.

"Hello?" He didn't sound nearly asleep enough for four in the morning. That was her first thought. Her second was that his voice had the same wearied edge that hers had taken on in the last few days. "Is this some kind of prank call? Who is this?"

"It's me," Selina said, all of the anger draining out of her in an instant. "I had a nightmare. I've been having nightmares, and I didn't know who else to call."

I know it's short, but I wanted to get this up quickly and it's very important for things to come. As always, I'd love to hear from you all!
~ Fae