A/N: I can't thank you enough for your lovely reviews and for all the follows! This is part 2 of 5. It is definitely longer, but after nearly abandoning this storyline, I finally wrote down the story I wanted to tell. Please note that the house layout is what I've gleaned from the set of Gotham, but I can't promise it's accurate. Sorry if I made some errors in house geography. Also, I researched severe back trauma and the treatment is pretty much what I mention here. But if I bungled something, please forgive me. I've been playing on the recent storyline of early season 4, but obviously since it's not all out yet as of 10/6/17, I'm not including everything that's cannon from the show. So mostly no spoilers. 98% original content. Except for the fact that I don't own any of these characters. Please don't sue me Fox or DC. I am but a poor and lowly fanfic writer.
Five Nights of Summer
July 31
Bruce Wayne had been lying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling for the better part of twelve hours. Alfred and Lucius were fairly sure nothing was actually broken. But once the shock of free falling five stories straight down and landing on his back had worn off, the pain came both sharp and dull over all his body. He'd slept, thanks to the pain pills. And now the heat pads and ice packs that were holding the worst of it at bay. But Bruce felt foolish for making such a stupid mistake while out patrolling.
Alfred had told him he could return to a real bed after a day or so. But for now he was going to lay on the hard, cool tile in the solarium with towels rolled under his neck, knees, and small of his back. If he was lucky, Alfred warned, he might not have any permanent damage.
As it was he was under Alfred's strict orders not to get up even to use the bathroom alone lest he cause himself permanent damage. No patrolling tonight, that was certain. He was getting antsy.
Alfred appeared at the door looking about as irritated as he had been since the initial shock of rescuing Bruce from his accident. "Master Bruce. Miss Selina Kyle for you."
Bruce carefully turned his head and saw Selina peek around Alfred. She looked surprised.
Alfred cleared his throat. "You'll remember what I said then? No getting up, nothing… Too active." He glanced at Selina and she smirked at him as he left.
"Please forgive me for not rising to greet you."
"Anybody else, I'd think that's a joke. But you're so damn polite, you probably mean it." Her boots made no noise on the tiled floor as she walked. He'd have to remember to ask her about those.
"My father taught me to stand when a lady entered the room." He smiled up at her as she moved towards him. The painkillers had nothing on how Selina made him feel.
Selina curled her legs under her and sat at Bruce's shoulder. "Well, don't worry then, it's just me." She reached a hand up and unnecessarily brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Alfred told me you fell. What happened? You trip over that ego of yours?" she kidded.
He smiled back up. It was good to see her even if he was embarrassed. "It was foolish. I caught someone stealing copper wiring out of a generator on top of the Riverside senior home. He was a better fighter than most of the thugs I run across. We fought for a while, and when he tried to run he tripped over his tool box and took a dive over the side. So I grabbed him, pulled him up. I let my guard down. I thought maybe the fall had scared the fight out of him. He threw me over instead," Bruce said simply. "And I admit I was unprepared. I fell straight down and landed on my back across the edge of an open dumpster. If Alfred hadn't been spotting me, I would probably still be there."
Selina was quiet for a moment and nodded. "You're lucky you didn't die."
"It wasn't so bad," he assured her.
"Yeah, I bet. You're talking to the girl who was in a coma for a week after being pushed out a window, Bruce. It's not something you just shake off."
"The suit saved my life. That's really all there is to it."
"Yeah," she said again. "Some suit." Bruce could see something more behind her eyes, but she looked away and busied herself with rearranging her long legs under her. "I'm guessing he didn't bother to thank you, then."
"Something tells me he's not normally the grateful kind."
There was a long pause and she laughed quietly and shook her head. "So Alfred said nothing too active. I guess that means we're staying in tonight."
"Tonight?"
Selina's eyebrows went up in amusement. "Looks like you took a blow to the head, too," she said.
Bruce's face fell. "I'm so sorry. I- I completely forgot."
"Don't be sorry. You have a doctor's note." She nodded at his supine pose. "No, really," she reassured, seeing the darkening embarrassment creep over his face. "Listen, this is the kinda thing that's gonna happen if you keep going out and tryna fight crime, or whatever. You're gonna get hurt," she said simply.
Bruce was quiet for a minute as he tried to deal with how much he had disappointed Selina, even though she refused to show it. She wasn't being a good sport, he knew. She was trying to pretend she didn't care. But when he has suggested this evening together, it seemed her interest had been genuinely piqued. And now not only had he ruined it but forgotten it too.
"I apologize, Cat. I'll make it up to you."
"It's no big," she shrugged. But Selina's poker face wasn't so strong around him, and he could see through her tough veil that she was upset.
"I'll make it up to you. I promise."
"Don't promise me anything," she told him sharply.
It turned very quiet. The afternoon's summer sun had already arched over him as he lay alone in the solarium off the kitchen. From there he had listened to a few hours of music as he drifted in and out of sleep, talked a bit to Lucius who had stayed to sit with him and read the paper while Alfred caught some shut eye upstairs. He had watched the sun cast shadows on the walls, watched them creep from one end of the room to the other, their travel hastened by his intermittent snoozing. How had he lain here all day and not once remembered he had asked her to join him that night?
Bruce felt twice as foolish as he had before Selina arrived. Time was passing and the silence was deafening. She was not good at accepting apologies, it was true. But he couldn't really blame her in this case.
Two nights previous he had been out patrolling. They had run into each other on the top of Corner Mini Storage on 4th and Graham. He'd landed from a ledge above and she had climbed up from below, neither of them intending to meet. He hadn't seen her in person since the night he dropped her off at her place with Tabatha. He couldn't help but to smile when he realized it was her. Alfred had said something and Bruce told him he was fine, that he'd be back in a moment, then he switched his headset off.
Normal teenagers asked each other out on dates in the hallways by their lockers after homeroom, Bruce thought. But nothing had been normal since his parents had died, and nothing about Selina was normal either. So it seemed to make perfect sense, right there in their suits and masks, atop a grimy building in midtown, to ask her to explore the caves under the manor with him. There were miles of caverns and tunnels, he had told her, places that were begging to be climbed and discovered.
Dinner had been nice, but it was obvious she usually had something more physical in mind. He aimed to keep her busy.
She had looked at him like he was crazy, like he was kidding or lying. But he had insisted he'd found this fanciful place under his mansion, and he wanted nothing more than for her to see it. It meant taking her through his father's hidden office, past the things his father had meant to keep from all other eyes. But this was Selina, and she understood. Alfred would understand too, in time.
She had agreed eventually after digesting how improbable it sounded. But she had looked happier than when she'd arrived on the rooftop so he felt he'd done something right. And when they parted ways that evening she had kissed him goodbye, tilting her head to avoid his mask.
That had been barely forty-eight hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Bruce was sure the percocet wasn't doing him any favors in that department.
The silence was unbearable, so he finally spoke, deciding to change the topic. "So," he ventured, "where have you been lately? I haven't seen you in your usual haunts."
"Working," she said simply. "Same as you,"
"I can't help but think we may have slightly different job descriptions."
"You're in the crime business, I'm in the crime business. Let's not muddy the waters."
"How's Tabatha Galavan?" he asked pointedly, forgetting that making her feel better was the goal, not an argument.
"Yeah, let's talk about someone else. I might have overheard a few things last night that could interest you."
"About who?"
"Word is, Gordon's trying to bust Penguin for racketeering and a whole bunch of other stuff. But he can't get the GCPD to back him up. So he decided to get in touch with Carmine Falcone."
All teenage angst forgotten, rage welled up in Bruce's throat. "No! He wouldn't. Falcone was a mob boss, why would he want his help?" A throb went down between his shoulders and he winced.
"You can't think of one good reason? You used to be smart. That fall knock some brains outta you? I realize you were dealing with your parents' deaths at the time, so you might not remember. But the last time this town wasn't falling apart? Falcone was in charge of it."
"He was the head of organized crime, the same as Penguin. I see no difference," he scoffed.
"Well, Gordon does," she replied airily. "And the last I heard on the street is he's already got a meetup scheduled with Falcone down in Miami."
"That would just swap one criminal for another. What's the point?"
"They might both be criminals, but at least Falcone wasn't nuts. Penguin is chaotic; he'll do and say anything to survive, turn on anyone. Falcone at least has some manners."
"I doubt that when my father taught me manners he followed the Carmine Falcone rulebook."
Selina rounded on him. "If you had to choose, who would you pick? The psychopath who had the Riddler frozen and put on display in his club, or the nice old man who lived by a pretty respectable code?"
"Neither! I wouldn't choose any criminal to be in control of Gotham. I would work to establish an uncorrupt mayor's office, an uncorrupt GCPD. There wouldn't be a mob, there wouldn't be a web of crime stretched over this city if I could choose, Selina."
Bruce couldn't read her for a moment. If he had to guess what that look on her face meant, he'd have to assume it was pity.
She leaned back and it was then Bruce realized he was sitting up. The pain was great, but the resolve he had felt was stronger.
Bruce lay down again and looked away, his jaw set.
"It's easy," she said, "to point down at the villains when you're standing high above them and can see their black hats. But that's the luxury of living in a black and white world. Down here, where it's all grey, it can be hard to fit people in neat little black and white boxes. People don't fit into neat little boxes, Bruce. Falcone's a bad guy, but he might be the best chance Gotham has."
"That's what people say about the Penguin, Selina," he spat. "That's what they said about the man who handed out licences, permits, to commit crime."
"Yeah, and crime is down 46% if you believe the front page of the Gazette."
"Penguin's bought off the Mayor, the Commissioner, and the judges. I'm sure he didn't stop at the newspaper."
"Well, you can't buy off everyone. And the approval rate on the street, criminals and squares alike, is pretty damn high."
"Do you really think it's acceptable to allow men who are unabashedly flaunting their lawbreaking to set policy in Gotham?"
Selina laughed tiredly and looked at Bruce. "You don't think you're in the crime business? You're breaking a lot of laws every time you go out there. Trespassing, threats, stalking, blackmail, assault. Stealing from Wayne Enterprises?" she added with raised eyebrows.
"The suit is technically mine. I own the company."
"Right, I'm sure everyone would totally see it that way."
"What is your point?"
"My point is, your activities," she said condescendingly adding quote marks around the word, "aren't exactly GCPD approved, are they? What would your hero Detective Gordon say if he knew what you were doing? After he got done reading you the riot act over how dangerous it was, don't you think he'd threaten to arrest you if he ever caught you doing it again? Show me where in the city's charter is says it's ok to go running around in a mask following bad guys without a warrant, or beating them up without a badge."
"I'm sorry, are you making an argument in favor of following the law? You're a thief, Selina."
It got very quiet and very cold in the room despite the piercing sunlight above. As he said it he knew the argument had reached a turning point from which it could not return.
When she spoke her words were carefully formed. "At least I know who and what I am. I'm not the one playing dress up," she added after a pause.
Bruce pushed himself up again despite a searing pain in his shoulder and every joint protesting. He was too enraged to really feel any of it. His anger had gone from smoldering over Gordon's decision to bring in Falcone to white hot over Selina's words.
"Dress up?! Is that what you think this is? You think I'm out having FUN?!"
Selina swiftly pulled herself up into a crouch and glared at him through slits. "Y'know, I'm sure you're very proud of yourself, the rich kid playing Gotham's savior. But for all the money your company's invested in combat suits for warfare, you could probably feed all of the kids at the Bowery shelter for a month. Whatever you're doing at night, it's not for Gotham. You can tell yourself that all you want, that you're trying to be a hero, but I know you. You're doing this for yourself. Your guilt and your fear. You call it love, but you don't have love in you. You just have whatever you're working out over your parents being murdered."
If you asked him what he was thinking at that moment, if you asked him what he thought was going to happen, what did happen next, he couldn't have told you. All he heard was the rushing in his ears. If he hadn't been injured, would the slap he aimed at Selina's face have ever connected? If he hadn't been in so much pain, would he have actually struck her for her words?
He never knew. She had pounced, nothing but instincts and reflexes, her strong muscles doing what they did best. Before he could even make a noise Bruce was flat on his back again with Selina above him, both arms splayed out painfully above him and held down by his wrists.
Despite his twisted face, the pain evident in his brow, Selina held him down and got in his face so close Bruce thought she may bite him.
When she spoke her voice was furious and frantic. "There's something else you haven't really considered. Who's going to run around saving people every night if you're dead?! You've got to stay alive if you're going to help this disgusting city. You flat on your back isn't doing anyone in Gotham any good. You want to save the scum in this town, fine, but don't ever forget not one of them will thank you for it."
Selina jumped up and off of him. "You think I'm mad that we can't go cave crawling tonight? You're an idiot, Bruce."
She turned and pushed past Alfred who had come down the hall to reprimand them for the commotion. He looked from her to Bruce and back again.
Bruce stared at the ceiling, willing angry tears not to push their way to the surface. Every word she had stabbed him with was still firmly embedded in his bones.
Alfred seemed to know better than to ask what had happened. As it was he wasn't sure which he liked less about the two of them, their fights or their quiet time alone together. But he did know Bruce was miserable right now, and it probably had little to do with his fall.
Bruce had tried to sleep again before dinner time. But the pain pills were wearing off and his mind raced with everything Selina had said. In his head he fought with her, argued every point, made her see that what he was doing was right and good and that she was wrong about him. But he couldn't even win the arguments in his own head.
As the evening came on him and the hot summer sun disappeared from the sky, Bruce found himself incredibly lonely and sorry for himself, two things he had never wanted to be again. He'd replayed every word she'd growled, yelled, sneered, and spat. The sun slowly made its way over the sky lights and the shadows cast crept over him and the wall, he began finding tiny truths and new meanings in her words. By dinner time he was sick to his stomach on oxycodone and grief.
Alfred had told him he could rise again after he'd rested, and as the clock ticked closer to six, Bruce became more agitated. Finally at five thirty as Alfred came in to check on him, Bruce began to push himself up from his pallet.
"Hold on, hold on, you needn't push yourself so, Master Bruce, let me help. It's a bit early for you to get back on your feet, I say."
Bruce gritted through the pain. "I can't stay down here anymore. If I'm going to heal, I have to move. I've stayed down as long as I needed. It's time to get up."
"I don't disagree, but if you move too fast you'll do yourself a permanent injury. Now just rest on me, Master B, we'll walk to the kitchen, get you some dinner." He pulled Bruce's arm over his shoulders and made him lean his weight on him as they descended the three stairs down through the sitting area and to the kitchen.
It was slow going but Bruce was finally deposited in a chair at the table. He was glad it hadn't hurt anymore than it already had. It was a good sign. Hopefully he would be back out tomorrow night. With the news Selina had brought him, there would be a lot of ground to make up.
Alfred set a large bowl of fragrant white soup and a plate of crusty bread before him and glanced at the seat opposite. As if reading his thoughts he said, "I take it Miss Kyle won't be joining us this evening."
"No, Alfred. And possibly not again for a very long time."
"That's a shame, sir. I was beginning to think you two were getting on better."
Bruce made a noncommittal grunt as he dipped his spoon into the soup. A moment later he nearly spit it out. "Alfred! This is cold?"
"It's Vichyssoise," he explained. "It's SUPPOSED to be cold."
"Why?"
"It's bloody ninety-seven degrees outside, that's why. Make your own dinner, you ingrate," he grumbled. But at least Bruce had laughed and whatever was weighing on him had dissipated for a moment.
"I forgot about our date tonight," Bruce finally said after a few mouthfuls.
Alfred set his bowl and a small glass of wine down across from Bruce. "I don't remember you making plans. Ah. Was this when you so rudely cut off your mic the other night?"
"It wasn't anything," he lied. He hadn't thought of a way to explain to Alfred that he was going to take Selina down there; he had just sort of planned to tell him and do it despite any protests. But now didn't seem the time to broach it. "I think I really hurt her feelings. And I think I scared her too. She was… Unbelievably furious with me."
"Ah. That's what I heard, then. I knew it wasn't just the sounds of summer love echoing through the halls."
Bruce laughed ruefully. "She told me I was being selfish. That… There wasn't going to be anyone to save Gotham if I got myself killed."
"You do realize that she's quite right, Master Bruce?" He firmly folded his hands in front of him.
"What about?"
"You could die," he said very succinctly. "It's a reality that she's come to face, as have I, and Mister Fox, and so should you if you haven't already."
"I'm careful, and I'm not going to get better at this if I don't practice."
"Well, that's very true. But every night that you go out there into the city and engage with these criminals, you ARE putting your life on the line. I'm sure you must understand that."
"I know!" he snapped, more frustrated than angry. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to yell at you."
Alfred brushed it off. "Your priorities are very different than mine, or even Miss Kyle's. You're trying to make yourself stronger, tougher, a better fighter. The rest of us are all trying to keep you alive while you're doing it."
Bruce looked up from his cold soup with knit eyebrows. "Do you all think that I don't appreciate it?"
"Do you appreciate it? I'm sure you do. But do you really understand the depth of it, Bruce? Do you understand the finality of death?"
"Yes, I think I understand that all too well."
"Do you understand what YOUR death would mean to US? To me, for example? I've lost your parents. What do I do when I lose you, eh? Dotter around in this old house by my lonesome til my dying days? And Miss Kyle? She's no Eliza Doolittle, but I'd say she's changed a bit for the better since knowing you. How would Detective Gordon take the news of your passing? Moreover, how will I explain that to him? It's bad enough that I couldn't take you to a hospital when you nearly broke your back. Exactly how do I explain it the next time you're laid up on the solarium floor and he pops by for a chat?"
Bruce held up a hand. "All right, enough. I hear you. What do you want me to say? I'll be more careful? I'll try really, really hard? I can't promise that I'll always make it out of these fights unscathed. But what I do, what I'm trying to do, keeps me going. It keeps the fight my father had in him going."
"Meanwhile, those who care about you will worry every time you go out there, and we'll worry until you come home every morning. You've got to accept that your actions will cause the people who care for you pain." Alfred took a sip of wine while he watched Bruce digest his worlds.
"I've accepted that she leads a very dangerous life."
"Have you?" Alfred laughed. "Oh, well, if we're playing the lying game, then…"
"How is that a lie?" Bruce said incredulously.
Alfred tilted his head and blinked at him pointedly.
Bruce looked down at his soup. "I know she does. I wish she didn't."
"And why do you wish she didn't?"
Bruce put his spoon down and watched it sink an inch into the cold thick soup. "Because she could get hurt."
Alfred took another sip of his wine, satisfied with Bruce saying the words aloud.
"Ok. I get it. I understand."
"You can't be mad that people care for you, Master Bruce," he said, his tone softening. "And you can't expect people to want to be part of Bruce Wayne's life in the day, but not at night. Miss Kyle has, despite my protests, a stake in your life and livelihood. You cannot ask her, anymore than you could me or Mr. Fox, to stay out of decisions that could see you laid up, or worse."
Bruce nodded and ate in silence. When his bowl was empty Alfred cleared the table and brought Bruce a bowl of fruit and a cup of tea.
"Do you think this will ever work?"
"Define 'this.'"
"My relationship with Selina."
Alfred cleared his throat and thought very hard for the right words. "The life you are carving out for yourself is a very narrow path. It may not be one she wishes to walk with you. I told you not long ago that you would have to choose, Master Bruce. But she is free to choose as well, in't she?"
After some very careful stretching and more ice, Bruce decided to go up to his parents' bedroom so he could take a walk out on their balcony for some fresh air. It faced East and gave him a singular view of the Gotham skyline.
The pain in his back was still there, and he reasoned it would be there for quite a while. But he could walk, he could climb the stairs, and he could stand and look out over the city he had devoted himself to.
"How can something so grimy glitter like that?"
Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, hating that his body was still moving so slowly. Selina Kyle, crouched above on the roof, looked down at him in the dark.
"Dammit! Selina, what are you doing up there?"
"I was actually staking out the roof over your bedroom, but you don't have a balcony."
"How long have you been up there?"
"All these questions. Jeez."
Bruce shook his head and decided not to make the situation any more complicated. "I missed you," he blurted out. Well, so much for that, he thought.
She smiled in the dark and looked out over the city. "Yeah? Well, I was kinda bored without you, too. Besides, I canceled all my crime plans tonight for you anyway."
"I know you weren't mad about about not exploring the caves. I realize now how much I scared and hurt you. I'm sorry, and it was foolish of me to not think about how what I'm doing would affect you."
Selina was quiet for a moment, but nodded. "Wow. Yeah. Pretty much sums it up. All right. Apology accepted. So, are you coming up, or am I coming down?"
"I'm coming up," he said with resolve. "Will you give me a hand?"
"Hey, if you're back's still messed up, maybe- -"
"It is. But one day I'm going to get hurt out there and Alfred won't be there to put me in the back of a car. I need to practice when I'm hurt, too."
Bruce climbed up onto the railing and carefully tightroped over to where the eaves met the wall. He sized up the distance and then jumped, grabbing onto the edge of the roof. With great effort he swung a leg up and struggled a bit til he was able to grab the arm Selina was offering him. She pulled him up and soon he was sitting safely next to her.
"We could have just gone inside," she said, smiling at him.
"There's a better view from here," he replied.
"Have you ever watched the sun rise over Gotham?" she asked, linking an arm through his.
He chuckled. "Once or twice."
They sat and stared at the twinkling lights of the city for what seemed like an hour before they spoke again. Selina had slipped her hand into his and had rested her chin on his shoulder. "Will you still show me the caves? When you're better?"
"If you still want to see them?" She nodded. "I'd love to."
"It seemed really important to you, to explore them."
"There's a whole world down there that I never knew existed. I wonder… If my dad knew…" Selina looked up at him as he looked down at her. Emotions ran through Bruce so fast he could hardly keep up with them. He imagined rock scrambling with his father around stalagmites, their flashlights bouncing off the walls and casting shadows. He could almost hear his father's voice. And he realized why it was so important to have Selina there with him when he finally breached the great unknown beneath. "I can't wait to share it with you," he finished.
Hours later the sun came up over Gotham, as it always did, against all odds.
