Chapter 8
Present Day
He grimaced as he straightened his leg, anesthesia-laced filaments threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness. This anesthesia was supposed to cut his recovery time by half and get him back on the job quicker. It was still too slow for his liking and would have to be retooled. He added it to his mental to do list along with the cape upgrade.
Concentrating on absolutes always helped wake his brain up so he focused on the immediate - He'd been conscious for 38 groggy, disorienting minutes. Alfred had finished operating on him 3 hours and 3 minutes ago. The detour through the forest combined with the onset of dawn gave Red Claw a six hour head start. The longer he waited, the colder her trail became and the more elusive the answers. He couldn't wait any longer. There was too much work to do.
Forcing himself to stand, he nearly crumpled as pain shot up the left side of his body and lodged itself behind his eyes. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him.
No, he thought, teeth grinding like steel against pavement as he willed his churning stomach to calm itself. He simply didn't have the time for physical frailties. Fighting through was his only option.
"I see expecting you to rest is as fruitless as always," Alfred said casually as he descended the stairs. "So I will simply say that it is wonderful to see you on your feet again, sir."
Bruce shot him a glare as took his few first unsteady steps. It could be a lot worse - the bullet could have shattered the bone. Again.
As he shook off the rest of the drugs, it all started to come back. Catwoman. In the cave. In his cave.
"Where is she?" he demanded. Alfred arched one thin eyebrow to let Bruce that his rudeness had been noted.
"I assume you are referring to our feline-inspired guest? I provided her with necessary medical attention and she is resting comfortably in the triage center."
"Conscious?"
"No, sir."
"Is she...ok?" he asked, struggling to remember what happened to them after they ascended into the Batplane. Everything after was a jumbled, pain-filled blur punctuated by her low, worried vocal tones. She had been in the pilot's seat with him, that he remembered clearly. That, and blood. Lots of blood. How much of it was hers?
"She's a might bit better than you, I'd say," Alfred said lightly, wisely not commenting on his boss's concern for the leather-clad thief.
"I need to review the recordings from the Batplane," he said as he fought the limp threatening to overtake his gait.
"May I inquire as to why?" Alfred asked, his tone indicating he knew very well why and did not approve.
"She wasn't blindfolded on the way here," Bruce said as he dropped into the chair in front of the batcomputer. The older man's glare of disapproval bored through the back of his skull. "She's a criminal, Alfred. And if she saw something, a threat. To both of us."
"Criminal or no, without her applying pressure to your wound, you might very well be dead right now."
"Two-Face saved my life before, too. When should I ask him over for tea?" Bruce snapped as he pounded the keys harder than he intended. Sometimes Alfred didn't know when to keep his damn mouth shut.
"Last night I watched a severely injured woman put your well-being above her own to ensure you'd live to see another day. She deserves your gratitude, not your suspicion," Alfred said, leaving no room for discussion. He set a cup of coffee beside Bruce and headed back up to the Manor without another word.
Bruce rolled his eyes as he called up the AV file from the Batplane's interior camera. What did Alfred know, anyway? He set the video to fullscreen and pressed play.
Selina's face filled the frame, her mascara smeared as if by an artist's hand, a souvenir of their dip in the river. Messy and disheveled looked good on her. Her gaze, filled with concern and worry, never left his face. Not once.
He watched her on the monitor, his throat tight, and suddenly it was very hard to breathe.
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The electrocardiograph beeped in time with her strong, steady heartbeat. Long eyelashes lay still against her cheeks like soft butterfly wigs. His hand twitched, then stilled, as he suppressed the urge to remove his glove and run his fingers through her thick black hair, her face from the Batplane recording fresh in his mind.
What had she been thinking then? Was the expression simple human compassion for another person? Or was it...more? Could it be more? Could they ever have something beyond what they have now...whatever that was?
It wouldn't be honest to say he never thought of her beyond their encounters on the rooftop. Truth be told he thought of her often, whether it be fantasies of them in bed together or a stray thought about her while entertaining another boring socialite. He even dreamed about her.
The dream was always the same - Entering the Manor's extensive library on a cold morning. Snow fell softly outside as a fire blazed in the fireplace. There, curled up in his favorite leather chair, was Selina. Her black hair was damp, drying slowly with the slightest hint of curl. She was wearing his clothes - an oversized white tee shirt, black sweatpants cinched tight at the waist, white socks. The clothes overwhelmed her body but instead of finding it ridiculous, he found it endearing. Cute. Sexy.
A steaming cup of tea rested in her elegant hands as a small black kitten dozed contentedly on the armrest of the chair. Her face lit up like Broadway when she saw him, her smile dazzling and bright.
It was a moment from a life he wouldn't mind living.
Rustling from behind him broke through his thoughts.
"How much anesthetic did you give her?" he asked without turing around.
"The recommended dosage. Unlike you, most people want to ensure they remain unconscious whilst one removes a bullet from an extremity." Alfred answered, stepping forward to examine the saline solution dripping into her veins via IV.
"How long before she regains consciousness?"
"45 minutes."
Bruce nodded once, turbulent thoughts churning through his mind. Give her more drugs and get her back to her hotel room before she could regain consciousness? Or take his chances and keep her here? Getting her unconscious body into a busy hotel in the middle of the day could pose more of a problem than an awake, alert Catwoman in the Batcave. Or an awake, alert, undeniably sexy Selina Kyle back with him after a year-long absence. God, he'd missed her.
He weighed his options. Neither were good. If only he'd been able to lose her during the chase in the city.
"Let me know when she's conscious," he said, his decision made. Hopefully he didn't live to regret this.