Chapter 9 – Third Time's a Charm
It wasn't fair, blaming him for the costumes. It wasn't like Bruce had told her to arrive as Catwoman. She'd chosen it herself! A psychologist would probably have a field day with the fact that they'd both dressed as their alter egos. What did that say about their mental and emotional maturity? Were they both suffering from split personalities, unable to reconcile and merge their identities when needed?
Honestly, it wasn't something either of them had ever previously needed to scrutinize. No romantic interests had ever discovered their secrets. And now, for them to both discover each other's at the same time… it was insanity, pure and simple. They could hardly be blamed for navigating this situation with less-than-ideal judgment.
Bruce composed and deleted at least a dozen texts before finally settling on:
Le Canard Qui Rit, tomorrow at seven. I'll wear the plaid.
He interpreted her lack of reply as acceptance, which thankfully turned out to be true when she appeared at the restaurant the following night. Her outfit was, in a word, subdued. No cleavage, no bare shoulders, and a hemline modestly skimming her kneecaps. Bruce almost didn't recognize her when she entered.
"Good evening, Mr. Wayne," she greeted him at the table.
"Good evening, Ms. Kyle," he matched her politely formal tone, but kept a glimmer in his eye.
Snatching up a menu, Selina glanced appreciatively at the plaid shirt beneath his blazer, avoiding his gaze. "I trust you're ready for our third first date?"
"How's that?"
"Well, our last date was our second first date, but then we hit the reset button again, didn't we? So that makes this our third first date."
"Hm. So it does," Bruce studied his own menu. "Technically speaking."
"Is there another way to see it?"
"You make it sound like a setback. But I think it's an advantage."
"You do?!" Selina looked up, dropping her aloof façade.
"Sure. Who else gets to see things with fresh eyes over and over?"
Selina tucked her nose back into the menu. "I doubt our eyes are all that 'fresh' to each other, Bruce."
Bruce nodded. "Another advantage. How many hours did we already log before we officially 'began?'"
"Those aren't just college credits we can transfer," she snorted.
"Maybe you don't think they count, but I do."
Sighing, Selina flopped down her menu. "All I know is those damn costumes make it impossible to talk to each other without… without baggage! We're more like fictional characters than real people when we're wearing them."
Bruce dropped his eyes. "Sorry I made you feel that way the other night."
"Thank you."
"I was just so glad you came. That I hadn't dreamed it all," he reached across the table and grasped her hand. "That I didn't have to fight with myself anymore."
She looked puzzled. "What does that mean?"
"Wracking my brain, trying to remember where I knew you from," he explained. "Sensing you were hiding something, but not knowing what."
Nodding to herself, Selina pondered his words for a moment. "It is nice not having to keep my guard up anymore."
"Right. Here we are on our 'first' date, and we already know each other's biggest secret!" winked Bruce. "That's an advantage."
Selina couldn't help but smile and acquiesce. Who would have guessed that between the two of them, Bruce would assume the glass-half-full optimist role? Either she'd seriously misjudged him before, or something about him was changing. She wouldn't complain either way.
Still, there were things she needed to clarify before they continued seeing each other. Matters of principle.
"Do you respect me, Bruce?"
The question came without preamble, and Bruce certainly hadn't expected it so early in the night. He blinked a few times, collecting his thoughts.
"I… want to understand you. For us to understand each other. If we can do that, respect won't be far behind."
She nodded. It was no worse than she'd anticipated. "I appreciate your honesty."
They allowed silence to settle over their table for a time, feigning interest in the menus, passively absorbing each other's presence. Clearly, they possessed enough mutual respect to enable this rendezvous in the first place. Each was learning to accept the other's acceptance, rather than batting it away like some venomous snake. Passive, humble coexistence didn't come easily to either one, but together, the challenge felt less daunting.
"So who else knows?" Selina spoke up again.
"About my extracurricular activities, you mean?"
She nodded.
"Besides you, just Alfred, his daughter, and Commissioner Gordon."
"You've got more liabilities than I do," Selina lifted an eyebrow. "Only my roommate knows about me."
"I'm not indiscreet. They either live with me or collaborate on catching criminals," Bruce took a bite of pre-dinner salad. "My turn for a question. What did you do before you… became her?"
"I told you already, I competed in gymnastics."
"For a few years, yes. But there was a gap in the timeline, as I recall."
"Nothing gets past you, does it?" she smiled bitterly. Sitting back in her seat, Selina took a deep breath and donned a cavalier face. "Think back to ten years ago. Do you remember bringing in a group of girls to the police station on New Year's Eve?"
New Year's Eve, ten years ago… that was right after he started his career as Batman. Just a month after returning from Europe, he put his luggage away in storage and commissioned a costume from Alfred. Then he proceeded to give James Gordon a mild heart attack when he materialized in the poor commissioner's office one late December evening. To think it had all started ten years ago...
But that wasn't quite the memory Selina meant for him to recall. A few days after meeting James, Bruce had been summoned to the red light district in town, where he encountered several women dressed entirely wrong for the weather.
Time had faded their faces, but if he focused on that hazy image long enough…
His mouth froze in the middle of chewing. "Oh!" he gasped.
Satisfied with his reaction, Selina held out her hands in surrender. "Yep. That's what I did before becoming her."
The food in Bruce's mouth suddenly lost its flavor. "Selina, I'm sorry that happened."
"No, it was a good thing. A wake-up call for me," she assured him. "If I hadn't landed in jail that night, who knows when I'd have gotten the courage to leave that pimp?"
"Still, I'm sorry you ever felt driven into that life."
Selina tried to shrug it off dismissively, but Bruce could see the pain behind the charade. "It's what happens when you have no support, Bruce. No one to fall back on. I'm all I've ever had."
"What about your sister? Maggie, you said?"
"Who knows where she is. Haven't heard from her in over fifteen years, after she landed in a different foster home," Selina stabbed her salad.
"Hmm," Bruce murmured. A thought crossed his mind, but he chose to keep it there.
Shifting in her seat, Selina summoned her poise back. "Time for my next question: have you ever been in therapy?"
Bruce's eyes narrowed. "As in, talk therapy?"
"No, physical therapy!" she joked. "You're clearly too weak to open your own salsa jars."
He snorted a laugh, avoiding her eyes.
"I just figured, with your history and all, you might have tried it once or twice," Selina pressed.
Bruce's facial muscles tensed. "No, I haven't."
"Hmm," came Selina's reply this time.
"Have you?"
She stared at him, unblinking, for a good while. "No."
"There you have it, then," he said phlegmatically.
"Have what?"
"The simple explanation of why we are… what we are."
"That may be oversimplifying things a bit!" she protested.
"Maybe," shrugged Bruce. "But I bet your reasons for avoiding it are pretty much the same as mine."
"Do tell."
"We can't trust just anyone with our secrets," he deduced. "Even with privacy laws, it's too risky. If they told the media, it would–"
"Excuse me, Mr. Wayne?" a waiter's hand fell on Bruce's shoulder, cutting him short. "You have a call from Alfred Pennyworth, your butler?"
Frowning in surprise, Bruce excused himself to the maître d' station, attempting to tuck his large frame into a corner for privacy. Intrigued, Selina watched his neck grow tenser as the conversation progressed. He ran an anxious hand through his hair before ending the call.
"I-I'm sorry, but I have to go," Bruce tossed a few large bills onto their table without really looking. "I'll call you tomorrow, all right?"
Selina's objection stalled in her mouth when she saw how pale Bruce appeared. Whatever this was, it wasn't some pre-arranged "fake excuse" phone call. It was a genuine emergency.
"All right," she replied unevenly.
"I'm really sorry…" he trailed off, reaching back to her as he hastened toward the exit. "Tomorrow."
