Chapter 4
Nightmares
Selina always has nightmares that haunt her. She fights against the harrowing dread coursing in her veins every single night; her twisting soul becomes immune to the depth of black and white images of old ghosts-dipped into puddles of blood. There are exceptions, every now and then, when she finds herself curling up against the warmth of his strong body or the smoldering, suckling kisses he drops on her ivory skin after a hot shower.
Those romantic moments become impermanent and desperate to her cat-like nature-she tries to run from the demons hunting her down-tries to escape from the chains dragging her in shades of her sins. But every time she searches for a key to unlock her door of freedom, she finds it covered with stains of spilled blood.
Bruce knows that she'll never become a deep sleeper, he's prepared every night for her-blankets capture the heat as it radiates off his muscular frame, a cup of tea with a touch of milk and lavender lotion imported from Paris.
He also has his nightmares to conceal, scars to mend and bruises etched on his skin.
He becomes a victim of her deepest fears every time he tries to keep her from drowning in the delusional state of mind; Selina always wakes up terrified and lashes out like a ferocious panther, of course, there are some nights when she wakes up angry and bitter instead of allowing the fear to consume her. But has months pass and trust becomes necessary for their conventional relationship to survival in a normal world-the nightmares seem less frequent -he finds a way to search deeper inside the murky grays of her soul and gives her freedom.
Selina wakes up for now and searches for him in the darkness; if Bruce isn't against her lithe body. Sometimes she catches him on the rooftop, crouching down and looking at the city lights with intense hazel-green eyes glinting in the shadows.
She never tries to disturb his brooding periods, she just leans against the door frame and waits for Bruce to notice her. She's usually guarded by her emotions-dressed in a black baby-doll gown and dark, rich hair always cascades off her bare shoulders. Bruce is always advancing closer to her in tentative strides and wraps his strong arms around her, holding her close and coaxes her mouth with moist kisses. After he rubs her scarred back in lazy patterns of his circles-it lulls her to sleep for a few hours while he sits in the darkness and watches the distress cast over her beauty. It's something they share together as equal partners.
Bruce has his own demons to wrestle with in his sleep. He never tells Selina about them, he doesn't want her to worry because maybe Selina will not be able to understand his nightmares or even handle them.
His dreams always start with two shots in the dark and pearls spilling into puddles of blood. The deafening sound of laughter echoes in the alley as he kneels in between the bodies of his lifeless parents-he screams out his pain and feels the tears fall steadily down his cheeks. They never go away.
He wakes in a gasp, breath drains quickly from his lungs and body is slack with a layer of sweat. He places his hand on his chest, and feels the pound of his erratic heart pushing the muscle against his fingers. He closes his eyes, counts his breath and then looks at Selina -the seductive curve of her red lips and the pales of her skin. She takes the pain, torment and remorse way and he displays his gratitude by capturing her still lips with a chase kiss.
He knows he will never be free of his guilt, it always lurks in his veins and seeps into his wounded heart.
Sometimes he has dreams that switch into nightmares, the worst kind-memories and fear mixed into a configuration of something toxic for the mind to grasp. It's memories of the Joker, he sees the pale white makeup, souless dark eyes and the marred lips stained with shades of blood from his misfortune victims. He hears the insane laugher and smells the rotten stench of death-it consumes all senses and harbors vengeance. The worst part of the glimpses of his darkest demon is that he falls into a delirium of seeing images of Gotham burning and husks of bodies smoking in the alleys with Joker cards marking them as more victims.
Bruce always snaps his eyes open and latches his hazel eyes on Selina's face-it's like the morning dawn to him.
"Did you have another nightmare, handsome?" Selina asks, her voice hazed with sleep. She opens her dark coffee orbs and meets his gaze into the darkness. He curves his lips into a broad smile, leans in closer and kisses her gently as she closes her eyes.
"Just a bad dream, kitten." he replies in a soft rasp, he rolls on his sore back and slowly drifts away with her pressing against him.
The next morning he awakes, her mouth is resting over his heart, there are no bruises or signs of distress on their bodies just sunlight.
He strokes his fingers through her ringlets and drops his lips on her head-they stay close together, they allow the bright rays of dawn to fully wake them up -it's assurance to their weary hearts that it's a new day, and Bruce is happy and grateful they survived another night.