A/N- Thank you all so much for your feedback and support! I hope you enjoy this chapter- the lyrics are from "Shadows" by Red.
Pieces
Chapter Three
There's a hate inside of me like some kind of master
I tried to save you, but I can't find the answer
I'm holding onto you, I'll never let go
I need you with me as I enter the shadows
"Bonjour, Miss Reisler." The doorman looked up from his newspaper with a smile.
"Bonjour." Selina smiled back, taking off her enormous designer sunglasses. They had set her back about what she would have paid for two months' rent back in Gotham, and she had to stifle her middle-class shame every time she wore them. But while Bruce's cover was not much of stretch for him— a rich American businessman—Selina was having to adjust to playing his very well to do live-in girlfriend. She had to keep reminding herself that these sunglasses were a necessary expense. If she was wearing a ten-euro pair from the drugstore, their fellow occupants of one of the most exclusive buildings in Paris might grow a little suspicious. She made her way onto the elevator, typing in her building access code and then the button marked "PH" with the perfectly manicured red nail on her right pointer finger before turning to one of the mirrored walls and staring at her own reflection critically.
The woman staring back at her, Samantha Reisler, her current cover, had everything Selina Kyle had once taken such meticulous pains to pretend she had. But not anymore. No more returning expensive dresses the morning after a party, no more costume jewelry—she had now fully become the kind of woman that she once would have targeted to rob. Every time she stopped to think about the kind of life she and Bruce had now, Selina felt an odd combination of relief followed immediately by guilt. She never had to worry about money again, never had to go to bed hungry, or plan for her next big score. But without all of that, who was she here? What was her purpose? She wasn't exactly sticking it to the one percent, like she'd always planned back in Gotham.
Oh, you poor little rich girl, Selina rolled her eyes, suddenly wanting to kick her own ass for feeling sorry for herself while riding up to a penthouse in Paris. She was starting to understand why rich people needed so much therapy—they had way too much to think about themselves.
The elevator pinged with its arrival to the top floor, and she stepped out to the small entryway and typed in the second access code to get into the apartment. The doors opened right to their main living area. There was music playing from the surround sound speakers, some weird French rap song that Selina didn't recognize.
"Bruce?" She found him on a yoga mat in front of the television, finishing up his daily back rehab exercises, the last of which involved lying on his stomach and lifting his upper body and legs off the floor simultaneously. The exercises always looked a little silly, but especially today when they were being performed to the beat of pretentious French rapping. "What's with the music?"
"Three more." Bruce didn't seem to hear her question, grunting with effort as he finished up, relaxing back to the floor after a moment. Once he was done, he sat up to look at her, turning down the music before rotating his shoulders to either side to stretch out his back. "I am still not convinced any of this is helping."
"The doctor said it would take awhile." Selina opened her purse, tossing him his refilled Naproxen prescription. "Here. Party it up, baby."
"Thanks." Bruce shook out two pills into his palm, downing them with a gulp from his bottled water.
"How are you feeling?"
"Uh…mostly just stiff today." Bruce climbed to his feet, stretching out his arms over his head. He wouldn't look at her when he answered her question, and Selina knew he was lying. He was still in pain, a lot of it judging by how slow and gingerly he was moving. One of the idiot thugs from their alleyway encounter in London had aggravated Bruce's back injury with a well-timed blow from the heel of his boot that had knocked Bruce's still-healing vertebra back out of alignment.
Bruce had been so high on adrenaline after the fight and the reconciliation with Selina that he hadn't really noticed the injury until they woke up to their first morning in Paris. He had stubbornly tried to play it off and refused to go to the doctor until the back pain was so bad he was nearly in tears trying to get up in the morning. They'd now been in Paris for a month and a half, and Selina could tell that the glacial (for Bruce) speed of his recovery was making him so restless he was about to start crawling the walls.
"So what are we listening to?" Selina asked, still confused about Bruce's sudden predilection for what was proving to be very mediocre foreign hip-hop.
"It's actually a guy who lives in our building. Thought I'd listen to it in case I run into him again. He's some kind of French rap star. I mean, according to him. Talks about his money way too much to really have made it though—just seems like a dumb kid with a record deal."
Selina raised a suspicious eyebrow. She was starting to form a pretty good guess as to why Bruce was so sore today. "Where'd you meet him?"
Bruce ran a hand through his hair, his brain suddenly freezing up when he tried to think of a lie. Finally, he settled on the truth but decided to say it in the most "no-big-deal" tone possible. "Well, I, uh…I went to the gym this morning…"
"Damn it, Bruce!" Selina shook her head with fury, looking fully prepared to knock another one of his vertebra out of place. "How is that not exerting yourself? The doctor said to take it easy!"
Bruce hit his fist against the wall. "I am taking it easy! I'm taking it so easy I'm about to lose my mind, Selina!"
She took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check. If she were in his position, she'd be going crazy too. She wasn't in pain everyday, and she still felt like she was going a little crazy now that they had settled into a somewhat routine existence. "I know, honey. I get it. But you're just making it worse trying to rush things."
Bruce let out a frustrated breath, turning away from her and leaning against a panel of their floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at their stunning view of the Eiffel Tower. "I guess you were right about me getting old and boring. Your timeline was just off by about fifty years."
"Bruce." Selina walked up behind him, sliding her arms around him, resting her hands on his chest. She kissed the back of his neck, speaking softly with her lips against his skin. "You are not old and boring."
"Right." Bruce snorted with derision, clearly just determined to be in a bad mood. Selina didn't know if it was the meds, or just being cooped up so much, but Bruce seemed to be stuck in a state of perpetual melancholia since they'd arrived in France. "That's why you never want to have sex with me anymore."
Selina stepped away from him, her brow furrowed with confusion. "We had sex like three days ago."
"Yeah, and you looked bored to tears the entire time." Bruce grumbled.
"I was not bored! I was just…you seemed really into it, and I didn't want you to get carried away and…"
"What? Hurt myself?" He looked outraged, his cheeks flushed with humiliation.
"Well, yeah! It's pretty much my fault you hurt your back again when we were fighting off those guys in London, and when we…you know, in the alleyway, instead of taking you to a doctor…I'm sure I just made it worse, and I've felt so guilty about it ever since. Now you have to do all these exercises and like pop pills by the handful to even function, and I feel like it's all my fault."
"It wasn't your fault." Bruce sighed. "Besides, what was I supposed to do? Let those lowlifes beat you to a bloody pulp?"
They would have done much worse than that if you hadn't shown up, Selina thought to herself. It always fascinated her that Bruce was so well traveled and educated, but still seemed to have a certain innocence in the way he looked at the world. Must be the whole hero thing. Or maybe sheltered rich kid syndrome. Or maybe both. "No. I mean, of course I'm grateful you showed up. But what we did after...it was stupid. And I feel like this terrible person who forced you into this brawl and then jumped you in an alleyway when your back was basically broken all over again."
"Those idiots didn't break anything." Bruce scoffed.
"Fine. When they re-aligned your vertebrae, then."
"I'll be fine."
"I know you will." She reached out, her hand on his shoulder. "I just don't think we should do any more…you know, thrusting, until you're better. Just in case. Every time we do, I just worry the whole time."
"Well, that's just what every guy wants to hear." Bruce shrugged out of her grasp, that stubbornly persistent sullen expression on his face as he sank into a chair by the window.
Selina just watched him thoughtfully for a moment. Poor guy looked like he was rapidly sinking into some kind of Heathcliffian depression. This called for more drastic measures than a comforting pat on the shoulder.
"You know…" Selina lowered her voice to a throaty whisper, leaning over the back of the chair and kissing the side of his neck. "There's other things we could do in the meantime…things I could do for you…"
"Because you feel sorry for me?" Bruce asked warily. He didn't entirely trust himself to turn her down even if that was the case, but it still seemed like he should at least pretend to be offended.
"No, you pretty much seem to have the whole 'feeling-sorry-for-Bruce-Wayne' thing covered." She appeared in front of him with a smooth, slinking motion, her hands resting over his on the arms of the chair as she leaned closer to him, smiling at his pouting expression. "Oh, you poor thing. Look at that lip…" she purred, kissing him and biting down on his bottom lip at the end, pulling back slightly until it hurt.
"Ow." Bruce protested, but she could tell he didn't really mind. Selina released his lip, her hands tangling in his hair as she leaned back in to kiss him more deeply before starting to work her way down his body with her lips, pushing up his t-shirt to kiss his bare chest and further down to his stomach. "Did you ever play doctor when you were a kid, Bruce?"
"Uh…" He was finding it hard to form words at the moment.
"It's okay, I'll show you how…" she mumbled against his skin, "Just tell me where it hurts…"
"Right now? A little lower," he groaned with the surge of arousal that made him shift in his chair when he felt her full lips, and even her tongue, sliding over the skin just above the waist of his jeans, the wooden arms of the chair creaking as his grip tightened.
"I thought you might say that," Selina smiled as she unzipped his jeans, the French rap music still playing in the background, the pulsing bass seeming to pound inside his chest, everything starting to feel hazy and dreamlike as Bruce looked out the window at the Eiffel Tower, his eyes sliding shut with pleasure when she took him fully in her mouth, memories of the restlessness and dissatisfaction that had plagued him since they'd arrived suddenly seeming very far away and unimportant…
Forget the pills. And rehab. Bruce thought to himself. Right now, he could barely remember why he'd ever needed anything but her at all.
"Well, well. And after you always act…so nice and innocent about this kind of thing." Selina breathed out after Bruce returned the favor in bed that night. He emerged from beneath the sheets to lie down beside her afterwards, looking adorably, boyishly pleased with himself, Selina's breathing still shallow from the rush of an orgasm. "I think I almost broke the headboard." Selina grinned, looking up to where she'd been grasping the bars while he more than made up for his bad mood of earlier.
"Careful. We're just renting this place." Bruce grinned sleepily, feeling much better now that he had concrete proof that he wasn't a complete failure as a man.
"So we lose our deposit. Big deal." She snuggled up against him, her head on his shoulder as she gently traced her nails across his stomach and chest.
They lay there in a contented silence for a moment before Bruce pressed his lips against her sweaty temple, muttering his next words into her dark hair. "I love you."
Selina froze. He hadn't said it again since their ill-fated dinner date in London, and she couldn't exactly run away this time. There was an unbearably awkward pause as Bruce nervously waited, his muscles tensed so tightly he seemed to be readying himself for a physical (or in this case, emotional) assault, as Selina tried to form the words she had felt for so long but still couldn't seem to say.
Or maybe she could, she thought, looking up at him, taking in the face she woke to every morning, the face she had practically memorized by now. This was Bruce. The man she had finally let in and allowed to become her confidante, lover, best friend…everything. He had never done anything to hurt her. Maybe she really could trust him enough.
"Bruce, I…"
There was a sudden pounding on their door. Bruce and Selina both looked towards the living room, completely disoriented by the ill-timed interruption. Selina sat up, her cheeks slightly flushed, reaching over to check her cell phone on the bedside table. "It's after midnight. Who the hell…"
The knocking continued, even more insistently. Bruce got to his feet, pulling on his boxers and t-shirt. "I'll see who it is. Stay here."
"No way." Selina grabbed her white silk robe, throwing it on over her shoulders and tying the sash at her waist. "I'm coming with you."
Bruce didn't protest further, and they both silently approached the door, Bruce peering through the peephole. He looked back to Selina, perplexed. "It's that guy I told you about. The rapper. He's with some girl. What do you think they want?"
"Drugs. Booze. To kill you for your money." Selina whispered back. "Take your pick."
The knocking started again, so loud it seemed to echo through their cavernous apartment. Bruce sighed with annoyance, throwing open the door to reveal the pasty white face and bleached blond hair of Bastien Seydoux, the new artist of the moment in France at the moment and a grade-A douchebag for all time. The supermodel pretty girl on his arm barely looked old enough to drive, let alone be dating a guy in his mid-thirties. Bastien looked high out of his mind, as Selina predicted, his pupils enormous and expression slightly dazed.
"How can we help you?" Bruce asked in his stern manager voice, Selina smiling. She found it so sexy when he talked to people like that. She wondered if she could ever convince him to incorporate the manager voice into their sex life. Something with bondage, maybe…
Whoa, there. Selina shook her head, wondering what Bruce would think if he ever knew all the fantasies she created around him. Probably best that he didn't. He was still healing; there was no need to torture the guy. Besides, even though she did feel guilty about contributing to his current back-pain predicament, the memory of their alleyway encounter had gotten her through many a sex-free night when Bruce would pass out next to her, mumbling in his sleep through a haze of barbiturates.
The rapper's annoying French accent cut into her very satisfying fantasy as he went on, seeming a little too desperate for Bruce's approval in Selina's opinion."I just wanted to see how you liked the music. You and your…"
"My girlfriend. Samantha." Bruce indicated that Selina join them. "Samantha, this is Bastien Seydoux and—"
"My girlfriend, Natalia." Bastien tightened his grip around Natalia's bony shoulders. "Say hi, Nat. To my boy James and his very pretty girlfriend."
"Hi." The girl looked like a scared little bird, her eyes flitting from Bruce to Selina and then back to the floor.
"So did you like it? My demo?" Bastien pressed.
"Is there a reason we're having this conversation in the middle of the night?" Bruce asked.
Bastien looked down at his watch, letting out an unpleasant, squeaky laugh. "It's 12:30, grandpa. This is when the night gets started!"
Bruce sighed. "Look, we really don't have time for this…"
"Where is bathroom?" Natalia suddenly spoke up, revealing a very heavy Russian accent.
"Our bathroom? Don't you live right downstairs?" Selina looked between them skeptically. Something was off about this whole situation, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what.
"Party downstairs. Bathroom's a mess." Natalia shook her head vehemently. "Please, really I must."
Bruce and Selina exchanged a look. "Um, sure. Follow me." Selina led Natalia away from the men, Bastien eagerly trying to engage Bruce in further conversation about his demo as the girls left them to their own devices.
Selina turned the corner that led to their guest bath, indicating the door to the left. "It's just in there."
"Thank you." Natalia smiled, suddenly grabbing Selina's arm and pulling her with her into the bathroom.
Selina instantly grabbed Natalia's wrist to twist it to the edge of breaking, but Natalia reached out with her other hand to stop her. "Please, please, don't hurt me!' she said in a hushed whisper. "You must help me. He won't let me leave. I just want to go home."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Bastien…he is holding me here. Against my will. If he knows I told you, he will kill us both." Natalia blinked rapidly, tears filling her electric blue eyes. "Please, you must help me."
"Help you what?"
"We can't talk now. Go. Go back to them before he becomes suspicious." Natalia looked to the door with wide eyes, clearly terrified.
"Natalia—"
"You must go!" Natalia hissed, practically shoving Selina out the door and closing it behind her. Selina just stood there for a moment, stunned, pressing her lips together when she heard the soft sound of Natalia crying in their bathroom, sounding like the child she clearly was. But after Selina returned to Bruce and the Rapper/Kidnapper Extraordinaire, Natalia apparently pulled herself together. She came back out of the bathroom, letting Bastien put his arm back around her with that savagely tight grip.
"All right, well, next time I see you—I'll play you that new song." Bastien patted Bruce's cheek as though they were old, dear friends.
"Sure." Bruce smiled tightly, clearly not pleased with their present company.
"Goodnight, you two." Bastien smiled at them both. "Say goodnight, Nat."
"Goodnight." Natalia looked at Selina significantly before allowing herself to be dragged back to the elevator. As the oddly mismatched couple disappeared back behind the double doors, Bruce and Selina heard Bastien laughing too loudly at his own joke.
Bruce and Selina turned to each other the moment they were alone, both speaking emphatically at the same time and drowning out each other's words.
"You go first." Selina said.
"His new song is called 'Come On, Feel My Love Wand.' Would you have any problem with me punching that guy in the face?"
"None whatsoever." Selina stepped closer to him, lowering her voice as if they still might be overheard. "Little Miss Jailbait just told me he's holding her here against her will. She's been kidnapped."
"What?"
"I know. We have to help her."
Bruce nodded, trying not to look too enthused, both a little ashamed of how excited they were to have an opportunity to use their very specialized skills. "Tell me everything."
"Anything?" Bruce looked over Selina's shoulder as she watched their building's hacked security feed of the front lobby.
"No. He hasn't left yet." Selina yawned hugely. "You know, this would go much faster if we just busted down their door. You'd get to punch him in the face. I'd get Natalia out of there. Everybody wins."
"I think this may call for a more subtle approach. If we spook him, things could get even worse for her."
"So then we don't spook him. We take him out of commission for good."
"Selina. We're not killing anyone."
"Better that than just sitting here and leaving Natalia alone with that pervert." She glared at him. "She's just a kid, Bruce. And she needs our help."
"And we will help her. But not that way. Not the way that lands us on France's most wanted list." Bruce said sternly. "We won't be any help to Natalia from prison."
"There isn't a prison on this planet that I couldn't break us out of in twenty minutes or less." Selina rolled her eyes.
"You want a criminal record again? This time with murder charges?"
She sighed. "No."
Bruce suddenly pointed at the screen. "There. There he goes."
Selina turned to see Bastien walking through the lobby and out the front door of their building, wearing an Adidas tracksuit and gobs of ridiculous gold jewelry around his neck. "All right. That's my cue. Call my cellphone when he you see him come back."
"Will do. Be careful."
Selina nodded, grabbing her purse and hurrying out of the apartment, down the elevator to the eleventh floor, and finally to the door bearing the apartment number Bruce remembered from Bastien's gym keycard. She knocked softly on the door, whispering when she heard someone on the other side. "Natalia. It's Samantha."
Natalia opened the door, wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it that looked like it had been purchased from the children's department and baggy jeans that barely clung to her rail-thin hips. Her eyes filled with tears of relief at the sight of Selina as she ushered her in and closed the door behind them. "You came. I didn't even let myself hope…"
"We want to help you, Natalia. But we may not have much time. Tell me everything. Tell me how you ended up here."
"I am from…a small city outside of Moscow. I was going to school in the capital to learn English…maybe get job in America someday. But my family is very poor, and they could not afford my school anymore. I became…" she struggled for the right word for a moment, "…broke and come to France when I meet a man who tells me he can get me work as model. I think I will model and save up enough money to finish school. But it is not like that. He takes my passport. The little money I have left. And he give me to any man who pays the right price." Natalia's voice trembled slightly, her eyes glassy, but her expression oddly vacant. She was trying to distance herself from what she was saying. Selina knew that look, remembered it perfectly, feeling a growing rage within her as Natalia continued. "Sometimes he leave me in hotel room for days…many different men come to see me…and then he tells me that one of the men has bought me for his own. Bought for me for large amount of money, because he tells me he could charge more when I am pretty and have light hair. The man who buys me is Bastien. I tell him that I want to go home, but he does not listen. He does not care. I cry when he fucks me, and he hits me to make me stop. He force me to do things for his friends as well. They laugh like it is all a big joke. I am too afraid to go to police. He says if I try to leave him, he will kill me. He paid good money, he says. And besides, he says no one would miss me."
"Stop. Don't talk like that." Selina took Natalia's face in her hands. "I'm getting you out of here. And we're getting these lowlifes put away for life. Do you have any kind of information on the man who brought you to Paris?"
Natalia nodded. "I have the card he gave me when we first meet."
"Can I see it?"
"Of course. Give me one moment." Natalia smiled gratefully at Selina before disappearing into the main bedroom. Selina looked around the main room, wrinkling her nose at the scene before her. Natalia hadn't been kidding about a party last night. The air was still acrid with the smell of spilled alcohol and vomit. There were empty cups, stubbed out joints and razors still bearing the remnants of the white powder they'd been used to ration out, and, more disturbingly, used condom wrappers all over the living room floor. Stacks of porn DVDs surrounded the television. Real class act, this guy.
Natalia reappeared moments later with a creased and worn business card. It bore only a name, Gustave Ulrich, and a phone number starting with the two digit '01' denotation for Paris. "This is all he gave me."
"James and I will look into this. Are you going to be okay if it takes us a little time? Or do you need somewhere else to go? I'm sure there's a shelter or I could get you a room somewhere else…"
"No, no. It is Friday, so Bastien left for recording studio. At least an hour away. He always stays the weekend, working on music."
"So you think we have until Monday?"
"Yes. He will come back Monday morning."
Selina nodded. "I'll tell you when we find something. I'm sure it won't take us long."
Natalia stepped forward, hugging her tightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't even know what else to say, but…you are like an angel to me."
Selina patted her shoulder. "I'll do everything I can. I…I get where you're coming from."
"You?" Natalia pulled away, looking confused. "You live with wonderful man. You seem happy. You have all the money in the world. How could you understand?"
"I've lived at least nine lives, kid. This is just one of them." Selina pressed her lips together for a moment. "I know what it's like to want more for yourself, and think you have no other option. But you do. You can turn things around. And I'm going to help you."
"I trust you." Natalia smiled, looking so young and hopeful that Selina swore to herself she wouldn't rest until this kid was safe.
"How old are you, Natalia?"
"Fifteen."
Selina's jaw set into a hard line. "I'll be back."
"Thank you again." Natalia said again, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"It's not going to be like this forever." Selina smiled at her. "You know…my boyfriend and I have the space, if you wanted to stay with us for the weekend…"
"Oh, no. I mean, that's very nice, but…Bastien calls home phone to check on me. And if I don't answer, he would be very angry."
"We could forward the calls…"
"No. No, he could find out. Or hear your boyfriend in the background. He would go crazy. I will stay here. Clean up. Bastien would not like it if he comes home to a mess. I stay here."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Okay. I'll be back." Selina promised her, leaving with the business card that would hopefully lead to the snake who'd started this whole twisted story.
"The only record of a Gustave Ulrich is a guy from Canada who died in 1984." Bruce showed Selina the print-out from his computer.
"Well, clearly it's a fake name." She sighed, scanning Bastien's hacked financial records from her own computer.
"But I can't find it as an alias, a fake ID, anything…"
"What are you using to look?"
"Lucius created a computer program for Wayne Enterprises that runs names, photos, whatever you want, through all the law enforcement records of any given continent. I can still access the program, and I've searched everywhere. There's nothing."
"Shit." Selina rubbed her forehead wearily. "There's nothing on Bastien's records that connects him to this either. All of the withdrawls look legit. No payments to shell companies, no foreign accounts…it's going to be next to impossible to pin this on him with financial records this spotless. I bet he hired someone to cover this up. Someone good."
Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Did Natalia give you her last name? Maybe we could find them through a search on her."
"No, she didn't…but I mean, she's just a kid. I doubt she has a record or anything."
"How big was your file when you were her age?" Bruce raised his eyebrows teasingly, starting a new search with a different spelling of Gustave's name.
He didn't mean to offend her, but Selina's eyes went dark with anger. "Is this funny to you? A girl getting sold into sexual slavery is a joke?"
"N-No, I just meant…"
"I know what you meant. And I also know that it's really easy to judge a person when you've never had to struggle for anything in your life."
Now Bruce looked angry as well. "My parents were murdered right in front of me, Selina. You're not the only person who's ever known pain."
Selina looked at him for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I wasn't thinking. But, please…don't act like you know anything about my past just because you read some file. You don't know anything."
"I would if you'd tell me." Bruce set his computer aside. It was still performing the search on Gustave, and this was the closest he'd ever heard Selina come to telling him anything about her life before she became The Cat.
"What do you want to know?" Selina turned back to her computer, setting a keyword search for any of Bastien's financial records that had any connection to an online search or purchase. That was how most sickos found the girls these days.
"When was your first arrest?" Bruce asked. All her juvenile records had been expunged once Selina turned 26, and he hadn't been able to track them down no matter how hard he tried. Maybe it was time he just asked.
"I was thirteen."
"What were you arrested for?"
Selina swallowed hard, refusing to look away from her computer screen. "Solicitation. I was trying to make money for me and my sister, and three weeks in, I had the bad luck of running into an undercover cop."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
"She's not in my life anymore. She didn't exactly…approve of my choices. And she actually ended up joining a convent."
Bruce's brow furrowed, trying to determine if Selina was making some kind of bizarre joke about her sister becoming a nun. But she looked completely serious.
"I did my time in juvi, and when I got out, I went right back to the streets. I didn't think I had a choice. My clientele changed as I got better at my job, and soon I was working some of the richest men in Gotham."
"How old were you then?"
"I was sixteen when I got out of it. I had a…a really bad night, and decided to learn a new trade. I spent a few years training and when I turned eighteen, I bought my costume, found myself a little start-up cash, and started doing jobs on my own. The rest, as they say, is history." Selina was saying all of this in a droll, emotionless voice, as if she was just relaying information, not reliving her past.
"What do you mean by a bad night?" Bruce knew he might be pushing his luck, but he felt like he had to know if they were ever going to move forward. Selina's eyes went cold and blank as she stared at her computer screen, lost in her own memories for a moment, lost in a night she had never revealed to anyone else.
Finally, she looked up to Bruce from where she was sitting on the floor. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because I think you've been holding it inside for a long time. Because I think once you say something out loud, it starts to lose its power over you."
Selina turned back to her computer when it pinged with search results. Nothing. But she was grateful for the distraction regardless. "Maybe some other time, Bruce."
"Selina—"
"Why don't you put Natalia's picture into your database? I'm sure there's pictures of her online out with Bastien. Maybe you're right. Maybe it will bring something up." She abruptly changed the subject.
Bruce just nodded. He wanted to know more, but knew he had to wait until she wanted to tell him. "I'll give it a shot."
Selina nodded, starting a new search on her computer. After a moment, she looked up to see Bruce staring at his screen with a furrowed brow. "What is it?" she asked.
"I found Natalia. Or, the girl claiming to be Natalia."
"What does it say?"
Bruce looked a little nervous to relay his results. "Well, she wasn't kidnapped. And she's definitely not fifteen."
"What?"
"She's twenty-five. And it looks like she ran away from a town in Russia—Lobnya— ten years ago, to beat a juvenile drug charge. Her parents have been looking for her since 2002. Her and her brother. He was seven when they disappeared."
"What the hell?" Selina got to her feet, crossing to Bruce to look at his computer.
"It gets worse."
"What else?"
"It looks like she's gone through about five different names. And five different men, all of whom she cleaned out...and the last one who ended up dead."
"Holy shit." Selina peered closer at the mugshot Bruce had discovered. There was no denying it. "Natalia" was really a twenty-five year old one-time runaway named Aleksandra Baranovsky who was a suspect in a murder and wanted for the abduction of her underage brother Roman. Aleksandra had changed her appearance with each new identity, and her current bleached blond dye job had been done after she'd gone jet black for her last identity, in Sweden, that had ended in murder. "What do you think we should do?"
"Tell her…tell her we're getting close to nailing her 'abductor.' We need more time to plan our next move." Bruce sat back in his chair, looking up at Selina. "Unless you just want to send all of this to the police."
"No…let's wait." Selina shook her head. "I mean, we don't know the whole story yet. Let's not make any hasty decisions. Let me talk to her. Feel things out a little more."
"Okay." Bruce kept his expression neutral while secretly wondering if Selina might be hearing the siren call of her old lifestyle.
"What's wrong? You look weird."
So much for a poker face, Bruce thought to himself. "I just...don't over-identify here, Selina. She's clearly trying to cloud your judgment by playing the sweet little victim card. Who knows what else she'll try if she senses we're on to her?"
Selina waved him off. "She won't know we're on to anything. And if she tries to play me, I'll know. I manipulated my fair share of gullible millionaires over the years. I know all the tricks."
"Just watch your back. It says whoever killed the guy did it with a kitchen knife. Stabbed him fifty-two times."
"So, definitely an accident, then?" Selina grinned.
"Why are you smiling?" Bruce shook his head.
"I can't believe I almost just went from robber to robbee." Selina laughed to herself. "I'm going to go talk to her. Maybe you should look into the brother. He'd be seventeen now—maybe see if you can track him down?"
"Good idea." Bruce nodded, reaching out to catch her hand when Selina went to turn away. "Hey. Do you want me to come with you?"
"We won't find out anything if you do. I've got a funny feeling she's not too fond of strange rich men. And now we know what she does when she's not too fond of someone."
"I know, just..." Bruce's grip tightened on her hand. "Are you sure you'll be all right alone?"
"I don't feel alone. Not anymore." Selina didn't know why she said it. She certainly had never said anything even bordering on sentimental before. It just came out of her, unbidden.
But Bruce didn't seem as taken aback as Selina by the statement. He just smiled, touched. "Neither do I."
"All right, all right." She pulled her hand away, laughing nervously. "Call me if you need me."
Bruce watched her go for a moment before returning to his work on the computer, cross-referencing known associates of Aleksandra to see if he could track down her little brother. He felt bad for the kid—it wasn't as if he had any choice in the kind of life he'd shared with his sister. She had chosen it for him when he was only a child. Just like Bruce had never felt like he had a choice when his parents were taken away. He had to fight back against the evil in the city that had killed them. Roman probably felt like he had to be a criminal. But Bruce had gotten out of Gotham. Maybe he could show Roman there was always another choice.
"Natalia?" Selina found the apartment door wide open, cautiously stepping inside. Bastien's apartment was now bleached-clean and spotless. Almost eerily so, considering its state this morning. "I have good news." She searched every room, finding no sign of Aleksandra, no sign a woman had ever even lived there at all, before returning to the main room, standing in the kitchen and scanning the apartment for any sign of movement. "We think we may have found Gustave."
The door to the apartment suddenly slammed shut, and Selina felt the sharp, cool steel of a knife at her throat, Aleksandra appearing behind her with such practiced efficiency that Selina couldn't help but be impressed. "Let's cut the bullshit." Aleksandra hissed into her ear. "You have not found Gustave. Because there is no Gustave. You and Bruce discovered this more quickly than I anticipated. Oh well. Your boyfriend makes much better mark than Bastien anyhow."
Bruce? Selina felt a stab of panic, suddenly remembering Natalia hugging her when she'd been visited earlier. She must have planted some kind of listening device on me. She heard everything Bruce and I just said. Damn. I am out of practice.
"So now you know who I am." Aleksandra stroked Selina's hair gently, still pressing the knife against her throat, Selina noticing that Aleksandra was still wearing the yellow rubber gloves she'd presumably worn to clean the apartment. "And I know who you are. Selina Kyle. The Cat. The greatest con artist of our time—even going so far as to track down and work Bruce Wayne after he's been presumed dead. Now that takes ingenuity. You are the inspiration for everything I've ever done. Tell me, please. Have you enjoyed my work so far? Do you have any…how do you say it…pointers, for me? For next time?"
"There's not going to be a next time, Aleksandra." Selina said quietly. "You need to get out of this life."
"No. I will never stop. But you will help me get out of France. Me and my brother."
"Look—" Selina sighed.
"You will help us. Because if he does not hear from me within one hour, my brother will release the information we both now know to every major news site on the Internet. Security footage from the lobby of this building of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, still alive and well, and your exact location. I'm sure Gotham will want its Golden Boy back. I've read they're having problems again. And Blackgate Prison will want Inmate #4478 back where she belongs. Something tells me your many crimes will warrant extradition."
"Nice try, sweetheart. But I wiped my record clean." Selina seized Aleksandra's wrist, catching her off guard and knocking the knife out of her hands and high into the air, Selina doing a front aerial into the splits to catch the knife by the handle the second before it hit the ground. She gracefully folded in her legs, pushing up and turning back to Aleksandra to calmly slide the knife back into its place in the rack on the kitchen counter. "Now will you call your brother off so we can have a more civilized conversation? Or do I need to inspire you further?"
"Wait." Aleksandra's bright blue eyes narrowed with a dawning realization. "If you have no record…why do you care if the location goes public? You'd still have time finish the job and clean Bruce out before they drag him back to Gotham. I'd help you."
"Bruce isn't going anywhere. And neither are you. Make the damn phone call." Selina moved closer, lightly skimming her fingers across the knife rack as if selecting her weapon her choice.
Aleksandra's expression hardened further. "You don't actually love him, do you?"
When Selina made no denial, she could practically feel the icy rage spreading through Aleksandra's body. She had never seen a person look so furious, Aleksandra's bright blue eyes now narrowed into slits and her small hands clenched into fists. "Selina. I must tell you. You giving up your entire life for the sake of a man is extremely disappointing to me. Maybe…maybe it is time you retire, if this is the person you've become."
Selina seized the biggest knife from the rack, expertly throwing it with one smooth motion so it stuck into the wall right over Aleksandra's shoulder, the handle quivering from the force of the throw. "Make. The. Call."
Aleksandra nodded, her jaw still clenched and hands still in fists. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll call my brother."
"Good kitty." Selina's lips curved into a smile.
Aleksandra pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, hitting the first number on the speed dial. "Roman? It's Aleks. Listen to me very carefully." She took a deep breath. "Do it. Send out everything you have on them."
"NO—" Selina shouted, lunging towards her but stopping short when Aleksandra pulled out the knife from the wall over her shoulder and plunged it deep into Selina's stomach. Selina let out a shocked cry of pain, blood soaking through her white shirt as she staggered backwards. Aleksandra pulled the knife out of Selina's stomach before Selina slid down to the floor against the kitchen counter, the image of Aleksandra standing before her holding the bloody knife blurring as she started to lose consciousness, Selina barely even registering that the girl was smiling triumphantly.
"I told you," Aleksandra's smile grew wider as she crushed the cell phone that had fallen out of Selina's pocket under the heel of her tennis shoe, "I learned from the best. It does make me sad to do this, but you are not the woman I thought you were. I saw Bruce leave the building before you arrive here. He will not make it back in time to save you. You will be dead when he returns. Bruce will go back to Gotham, broken-hearted again. And I will be gone, with my brother. And all of your boyfriend's money." She looked down at the knife's handle. "Thank you for your fingerprints to access the accounts. You've been very helpful today."
Selina tried to speak, tried to move, but the pain was paralyzing. All she could do was watch Aleksandra walk away through bleary eyes, one thought replaying in her mind, torturing her as her world faded to darkness and all she could see was Bruce's face—
I never said it back.
A/N- Until Chapter Four…thanks for reading! Reviews=love.