Nota Bene: This story is not canon. I don't follow the comics and only know the various stories from the movies and growing up with Batman cartoons, supplemented with internet research. As with my previous stories, this started with a dream and is combined with ramblings of my own mind. In this case, it is a little personal fantasy, too. Batman. Mmm. Hot.

Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.

Batman: Revelations

Chapter 9

On his best days, Bruce forced self-doubt out of his mind. He was Batman, protecting the city and its citizens from harm. But other times, he was powerless to fight the spiraling darkness that plagued his mind. He used to be better at fighting it, but years of sleep deprivation, intense stress, and suffering had made him more and more vulnerable to the depression and anxiety.

He sat in the leather arm chair in his room, a cup of black coffee in his hands. It had gone cold long ago, nearly untouched, but he clutched the cup still. The black-out curtains were drawn, and the room was dark, save the smallest ray of light peeking through.

The previous night's events played through his mind, over and over. What could he have done differently? The antidote had been replicated quickly by Lucius and the lab. Police helicopters had sprayed the city. GCPD officers had controlled the mobs and the panicking masses as well as they could have given the circumstances. But so many were dead. The loss of life haunted him.

He and Selina had been a good team. After she had told him of the plot, he had desperately wanted for her to escape from the city, shield herself from the coming madness. There was no denying his feelings for her. It would have devastated him to lose her. Flashbacks of Jason's death at the hands of Joker were overwhelming.

The cold, logical part of his brain, however, knew she belonged there, fighting with him. She was smart, skilled. A formidable opponent. Her network of contacts in the underworld had allowed them to find Scarecrow and capture him, though that arrest was partially what was weighing so heavily on him this day.

And the next time, it will be your fault.

Maybe it was his fault. How many times had Scarecrow been in and out of Arkham? Riddler? Poison Ivy? Joker?

Compared to his Justice League colleagues, Batman was the outlier. He was no boy scout. He didn't just operate in the grey, he lived there. He pushed boundaries, routinely used violence and intimidation to reach his goals, but he still had one cardinal rule. Do not kill. That was a line he would not cross. Once he did, the lines between himself and those he fought would be irrevocably blurred.

But yet, he found himself struggling. Each time one of Arkham's inmates escaped, how many lives were lost? How much destruction and chaos hit the city?

What if he just killed them? He was, after all, a vigilante. Once they were all gone, there would no longer be a need for Batman.

Alfred's knock on the door roused Bruce from his brooding. "Master Bruce. The board meeting starts in an hour. Shall I pull the car around?"

Glancing at the clock, Bruce was startled to realize it was past noon. "Of course, Alfred. Give me a minute and I'll be down."

"Is everything alright, Master Bruce?"

"I'm fine, Alfred."

But that was a lie.

Selina was pleased to receive the dinner invitation from Bruce. He had seemed distracted, distant on the phone, but she knew he was busy, and prone to occasional loss of focus on personal matters. The previous day had been hard. Chaos had rained throughout the city until the antidote had been distributed.

Thankfully, Scarecrow had been apprehended and was now safely behind bars at Arkham. What was most unsettling, however, was Batman's reaction to Scarecrow's comment. He had almost seemed to believe it. Selina's heart had gone out to him as they stayed together after the arrest. They had just sat there and looked out into the darkness, silence between them, her hand companionably on his knee.

It wasn't his fault. None of it was his fault. He spent every night fighting people like that, but she could see where he had been unsettled.

Seeing Bruce would be an emotional break from the pain of that night, but would do nothing to calm the her conflicted feelings. She had such strong feelings for Bruce, but there was a connection with Batman she couldn't deny, either.

Over the two months they had been dating, they had frequented Gotham's best restaurants and society events. They met for coffee in the afternoons, indulged in bubbly brunch on Sundays. It was just recently, however, that they had turned almost domestic. And she was finally going to see him in his home, where she was most likely to see the true man, and she would be able to meet Alfred, whom Bruce spoke of often.

But guilt overwhelmed her. Bruce was a good man, and she was keeping so many secrets from him.

Selina arrived at Wayne Manor promptly at 6. She had never understood the need for people to be fashionably late. Perhaps it was her background and the fact that she had not learned social conventions until well past childhood, but she considered it polite to arrive when you were asked to.

Alfred met her at the door and escorted her to the library, where tea was waiting. "Miss Kyle, Master Bruce sends his apologies, but he's been delayed at Wayne Enterprises. The board meeting has run quite long, as they needed to reconvene late this afternoon following the earlier session. "There is tea ready for you, and the contents of the library should provide entertainment until he arrives."

Selina was disappointed that Bruce was not yet home, but she decided to make the best of it and get to know Alfred better. He was wearing an apron and she could smell dinner cooking in the kitchen. "You're obviously busy cooking. Why don't you let me give you a hand? Besides, it would be a great time to weasel some juicy gossip out of you on Bruce." Selina winked at Alfred and started walking back towards the kitchen.

"Miss Kyle, that won't be necessary. I assure you have everything quite in hand." Alfred raised an eyebrow and quickly evaluated the woman standing before him. She was wearing an impeccably tailored dress, heels, her hair in an elegant knot. Outwardly, she seemed no different than the rest. The only thing that gave him pause was how much happier Bruce had seemed over the past two months. Intent on returning to his duties, he started to turn, but she stopped him.

Selina had caught the once-over look. "Alfred, I didn't come from money. I was raised with nothing, by no one. I'll let you in on a little secret. I may look polished on the outside, but in my heart, I'm still a street kid. I can't sit here and let you wait on me. Let me help."

Alfred's eyes met hers and smiled. "Alright, then, Miss Kyle."

"Selina, Alfred."

"Selina, then." This one might just be exactly what Master Bruce needed, Alfred thought.

Despite his initial efforts to sway her, Selina had fun helping Alfred in the kitchen, though something was tickling in her consciousness about the way he said "Master Bruce."

"Alfred, why do you call Bruce "Master Bruce"? From everything he's ever said about you, you are more of a father to him than a butler. I know you raised him after his parents died.

"Miss Kyle," she sent him a sharp look over her shoulder, as she continued slicing onions. "Selina. What started as a formal interaction, a hold over from the late Master Wayne's place as master of the house, has become a term of endearment. I don't just love Master Bruce like a son. He is my son just as much as he was Thomas and Martha Wayne's."

Selina reached over and squeezed his hand, smiling. "I'm glad he has you, Alfred. And I may have only known him for a few months, but I can tell you he feels the same about you. Now, tell me all the embarrassing stories about the Prince of Gotham when he was a kid."

Bruce cringed as he walked through the door an hour late. He really had wanted to get home since Selina was due for dinner, but was pleased to find her car still in the driveway.

He expected her to be in the library, where Alfred usually deposited guests, but it was empty. Instead, Bruce found in the kitchen, chopping carrots at the island, a glass of wine in her hand, her stilettos kicked off into the corner. Alfred was manning the stove and telling her about when Bruce was 10 and decided it was time to take over as head of Wayne Enterprises. He had overheard his father's advisors discussing a 5 year financial plan and disagreeing on the way forward. Thus, the precocious child that he was, he had crashed a board meeting and tried to weigh in. He may have been only 10 and was crashing a board meeting of grey-haired investors, but he had the intelligence to support his analysis.

"The board listened to his counter-proposal before calling me to fetch young Master Bruce and take him home. You should have seen their faces. But after all that, they decided to adopt his plan." Alfred practically beamed with pride.

"No!" Selina said, laughing.

Bruce stood silently and watched the interaction. Had he not already loved her, he would have fallen in that moment. He already knew she fit into a black catsuit. Now he knew she fit into Wayne Manor. Nothing made him happier than the knowledge that in his pocket was a small velvet box.

During the break between board sessions, he had gone shopping and found the perfect ring for her. It was an antiqued platinum setting with a scrollwork design on the band and setting. An outrageously large, round-cut diamond surrounded by sapphires. He didn't know why, but he just knew it had been made for her. It was bold, but classy. Unconventional, but tasteful.

The box was clutched in his hand inside his pocket, as he casually leaned against the door jamb. His fingers itched with anticipation and he forced himself not to pull the box out right there. It wasn't time yet.

Bruce didn't know how he was going to balance his two lives. He didn't know how he was going to tell her who he was, that he knew who she was. No, it wasn't time yet. But that time was coming, he could feel it. And when the time was right, he would slip it onto her finger and she would be his. Just his.

Before he could announce himself, Selina paused, stiffened, and turned around to see him standing there, grinning.

Her action caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly. Damn, sometimes I forget she really is Catwoman. He couldn't explain it, but she had always been able to sense when he was near.

He strolled over, one hand still in his pocket, stealing a piece of carrot and popping it into his mouth. She smacked the back of his hand as he reached for another piece, "Thief! Get your paws off that. It's for the salad."

"Thief, huh?" Before he could stop himself, he quipped "Orange jumpsuits aren't exactly my style" Selina froze, eyes locked with his, she had once quipped the same thing to Batman.

But Bruce, ever charming, just continued to grin, and reached over to kiss her on the cheek.

"I'm going to go upstairs to change clothes. Be back in a minute."

He slipped the box into his nightstand and traded his three-piece suit for khakis and an untucked button-down.

Careful, there. No more slip-ups.

When he finally joined them downstairs, Bruce was not surprised to find that Selina had talked Alfred into joining them for dinner.

Across town, Harvey Two-Face Dent was preparing. Scarecrow had been unsuccessful, but the plan had been too predictable. He had used a known toxin that Batman already had an antidote for. Tomorrow would be his night. And there was no antidote for what he was planning.