And now, some answers - and another cliffhanger...
Chapter 12 – Pride & Prejudice in Gotham
If one could harvest the energy from Selina's seething indignation, they'd have enough to power Gotham for several days.
And if Bruce were to do his pacing on a treadmill, it could be rigged to provide the world's best renewable energy source.
Selina had some nerve, casting him aside like that in public! Without even offering him a chance to explain himself. Her penchant for abrupt, self-righteous exits wasn't one of her better qualities. But then, that list was admittedly short to begin with. After all, how much good could there be in someone who steals for a living?
And who was she to judge him at all? There were certain things he needed to keep under wraps for now, and she'd walked into that confrontation completely out of context…
There was a knock on his bedroom door. Alfred poked his head in tentatively.
"Dick wishes to use the cinema room for his video games," the butler said.
"Uh, sure, go ahead," Bruce waved distractedly at him. "Just remind him to take it easy with his left hand."
"Indeed," Alfred quickly withdrew.
Bruce took several more restless laps around the room before there was another knock. "Yes?"
Alfred placed a foot inside the doorway this time. "Morning chores are all complete. Might I have a word?"
"Why not," mumbled Bruce. He knew he was due for another Alfred talk.
"I realize I have a different vantage point than yours, but it seems your dates with Miss Kyle have been rather… unstable?" Alfred began.
"You could say that."
"I don't want to pry, but is there a headline summary you could provide?"
Bruce held his chin a moment, thinking. "She doesn't trust me, and I think she's a hypocrite. How's that for a summary?"
"Mm," nodded Alfred. "That's a good start. Have you given her any reason to mistrust you?"
"No!" Bruce insisted a little too quickly. "I don't think… well, it's all because of Dick."
"You're blaming a child?"
"No, of course not! It's just… Selina thinks he's my son."
"Ah," Alfred sounded pleased. "She's not altogether farfetched in that assumption, though, is she?"
"That's not the point. I can't tell her anything yet," Bruce cast a glare out the window.
"Well, until you can, you can't fault her for feeling put off."
Bruce folded his arms. "With the way things have been going, she'll probably still feel that way after I tell her."
Alfred cocked his head, intrigued. "What makes you think that?"
"She thinks she's some kind of amateur psychologist. She'll say I have ulterior motives or something."
"Hm, no comment. You already know how I feel about your plans for Dick," Alfred remarked. "Since we're on the subject, have you learned anything new?"
Bruce rubbed his eyes, willing a faint headache to end before it worsened. "Not yet. James is still running some background checks for me."
"I'm surprised the orphanage didn't have those readily available."
"There are a lot of things about Dick's situation that don't make sense," agreed Bruce. "Just give it time. Something will come to light."
"Which is precisely the approach you should have with Miss Kyle," Alfred suggested. "Give it time. You two have a profound connection, she'll come around."
Huffing to himself, Bruce shook his head.
"As for the 'hypocrite' label you've chosen for her," continued the butler, "if you dislike being unfairly judged, I doubt she'd appreciate it either."
"How is it unfair? A thief has no right to question my moral character!" Bruce almost shouted.
Alfred pretended to busy himself with dusting the armoire. "How many times did you return home over the years, telling me how complex and unpredictable Catwoman was?"
Bruce smiled begrudgingly. He remembered. All the times she'd donated a stolen haute couture coat to a homeless shelter, or dropped a few diamonds into a beggar's cup. It didn't happen every day, of course, but often enough to keep him guessing.
"Find that complexity again," Alfred went on. "Then cultivate it. If anyone has the talent for it, it's you."
Bruce sniffed, brandishing his phone. "I can't do anything if she won't answer my messages."
"Give it time," Alfred placed a hand briefly on his master's shoulder before slipping out. "Give it time."
Time was one thing Bruce and Selina had a surplus of, judging by their unscrupulous expenditure of it. Their previous month-long separation was nothing compared to the passing of seasons that now elapsed. It was getting slightly easier to go several hours without thinking of each other, but it still felt like two steps forward, three steps back.
How they managed to continue their nighttime routines without crossing paths was the most impressive part. There were a handful of times they spied the other's silhouette jumping from a distant building, but never were they within a few hundred yards of each other. And certainly never close enough to be within earshot.
It was both comforting and disconcerting that they were still at large, doing well, and yet avoiding each other better than they'd ever done over the past ten years.
Batman did his job, which usually landed him one step behind Catwoman, and the world continued turning. Nothing new under the sun.
Yet when the sun rose on Easter Sunday, it shone directly on the newspaper perched on the edge of Selina's coffee table. As she sat down to skim its contents, she nearly spilled her mug all over the carpet.
There on the front page was Mr. Billionaire himself, Bruce Wayne. Standing next to him in the photo was a dark-haired boy, grinning fiercely with Bruce's arm around him. Selina's eyes darted to the caption:
Pictured at the Gotham County Courthouse is multi-billionaire and philanthropist Bruce Wayne, who recently added another charitable work to his resume: the finalized adoption of orphan Dick Grayson, age ten.
"Oh my word…"
Holly had just entered the kitchen when she heard Selina's heart-stopping gasp. "What is it?"
Selina fumbled for words, any words. "He… Bruce… it's…"
"Let me see that," Holly swiped the paper away. Her eyes grew to the size of planets. "Wow. Never saw that coming!"
Scanning the rest of the article, Holly mindlessly walked back toward the kitchen. Selina followed close behind, begging for the periodical back.
"Hold on," Holly waved her off. "Let me finish… it says that Bruce fostered Dick after he ran away from his orphanage, and then helped track down the thugs responsible for Dick's parents' murder. This is wild!"
"Here!" Selina yanked the paper back. Her furtive eyes drank in every word at record speed. "He worked with law enforcement to uncover a child trafficking ring at the orphanage… and all who were involved have been arrested and brought to justice."
"That isn't something you hear about every day!" cried Holly. "It's incredible. It's heroic. It's…"
"Amazing," finished Selina. She ran her fingers gently over the wavy, ink-saturated image of Bruce and Dick. The joy in their eyes pierced her soul, as if to scream at her: "See how wrong you were?!"
Dialing back her excitement, Holly noticed Selina's sober mood. "How long has it been, Selina?"
Selina counted backward mentally. "Six months."
"If you ask me, maybe it's time you gave him a call back," Holly shrugged, vanishing down the hall to leave Selina alone with her thoughts.
Maybe, she dared to whisper under her breath. But the weight of six months wasn't a burden so easily lifted – especially after all the stops and starts they'd already lurched through. There were only so many second chances, and after that, it was just grasping at straws.
She slept with the newspaper next to her pillow that night. By morning, there were a few more ripples on the page from where her tears had landed.
She was halfway through an English muffin, drowning in self-pity, when Holly jolted her by slapping a large envelope down on the table. It had been stamped all over with "CONFIDENTIAL" and "SENSITIVE MATERIAL."
"What the? Mail doesn't get here this early," she grumbled, reaching for a letter opener.
"Those sweepstakes scams must pay extra for early delivery," teased Holly.
Selina grunted in agreement as she withdrew some documents. The sender's name and address meant nothing to her, but the contents of the cover letter… it was a good thing she was already sitting down, or she'd have collapsed to the floor.
"Holly…" she wheezed, "…this isn't a sweepstakes!"
